Do You Know What's Worth Fighting For?
by Brick-Walls-Break
Summary: Audrey Curtis tries to find her place in the big, sexist, rough world of 1967. Darry never thinks that she'll make him chose between saving her life and breaking up the family... Sister fic, but focused on canon characters. Updated every four days.
1. Femininity

**DISCLAIMER:** The Outsiders doesn't belong to me, but it does belong to S.E. Hinton.

Chapter One: Femininity

There was blood everywhere.

I pulled my last pad out of my backpack with regret, but I knew I needed it now more than ever.

Karen was waiting outside the stall when I was done.

"That," I said as I turned on the sink. "Was my last pad."

"Your last? What do you mean?" she asked. "I have one in my backpack if you – "

"No, it's – I'm going to have to deal with this eventually," I said. Karen still looked confused, so I clarified: "There hasn't been a new pad in my house for eight months."

"Oh," Karen said. Realism dawned. "Just ask Darry; he's not going to make things awkward." I turned off the tap and stared at her until she realized the lie in what she'd said. "Okay, he'll make things incredibly awkward, but you're gonna have to."

"I know," I said. My shoulders slumped; this was the most brutal task I'd even been faced since my parents died. It was an inevitable thing, but I was an excellent procrastinator. I missed my mom more than even in times like these.

"How many pads did you have in the house? Geez, I can't make, say, a hundred last me _one_ month, much less eight," she said.

"I stole some from your house," I confessed. Karen just laughed.

"Stolen pads?" she found this incredibly funny, and after hearing Karen's sweet high-pitched giggle I did too.

I dried my hands with a paper towel. "I can't do it alone," I admitted. "Can you come?"

"Of course," Karen said, still in fits of laughter. "I can't wait to see the look on his face – "

"That's not why you're coming," I said as I pushed open the door to the bathroom. We walked to the front of the school; the hallways were already mostly deserted.

"Okay," she said, but from her tone I knew she didn't mean it. Best friends were hard to come by, and caring and understanding best friends even more so.

By the time we got to the front of the school, Ponyboy was already gone. He must have started walking, not wanting to bother to wait for me.

"Nice of him to wait," I muttered as we began the walk home.

Karen also looked visibly disappointed, but she looked like she was trying to hide it. She sped up, as if she hoped to catch up to him, even though that was virtually impossible when Pony's runner's stride and my short, chubby set of legs were taken into consideration. Karen wasn't the fastest either.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" I asked. Gum littered the sidewalk, and Karen avoided every piece, even though they were old and crusty and never could've stuck to her ballet flats.

"Nope," she answered too quickly. I didn't bother pressing the subject; I'd find out soon enough – Karen was a broken vault. There was a reason I didn't tell her everything.

"While you tell Darry about the – um, _feminine issue_, maybe you could ask him for some shopping money?" she asked. She was clearly trying to change my train of thought, and it worked.

"I've asked him for too much already," I said.

"You haven't gone shopping in, like, a year," Karen complained.

"Yes, I have. I went with you last weekend," I said.

"That didn't count. You didn't buy anything," she countered.

"We're not exactly rolling in cash, Kare," I said.

"I ain't either."

"I don't have a mother who tries to please me every second of every day," I said. Karen's mother had Karen when she was seventeen with some ex-boyfriend, but she married Brad at twenty. So far they had seven kids and counting, but Karen couldn't stand the little brats. Brad worked a lot, and Karen couldn't stand him either. Her mother felt bad for marrying him against Karen's wishes, but he brought in money and gave her the one thing she wanted – kids. So Karen got whatever she wanted, but she never seemed happy with that.

"You don't want my mother," Karen said. "You don't want my siblings, either. I'd take your family any day of the week."

"I'd take yours," I said. "Let's switch."

Karen smiled. "Still, ask Darry."

"No," I insisted. "He works so hard, and I feel bad asking for more and more of him, I mean, I feel bad asking even for money for the pads – "

"How can you feel bad asking for something like that?" Karen asked. She didn't get it, and she never would, not until she was old and it was too late.

I shook my head. "I won't ask for the shopping money," I said.

"You do need new clothes," Karen pointed out. "I think I saw that sweater on you in seventh grade."

"Not that old."

"There's a hole in the sleeve."

"You can barely tell."

"Oh, c'mon," Karen raised her golden eyebrows and let her long lemon blonde hair fall onto her back. She'd been shaking her head this whole time; she finally stopped. I looked like a shrimp in comparison to Karen's body and confidence. "You'll be saying that next year. And the year after. Don't kid me, Audrey. I know you want some new clothes. You want to impress Bryon."

"Oh my God, Karen," I huffed. "I _do not_ like him."

"He likes you," she replied. "He flirts with you all the time."

"He only wants sex," I persisted.

"No," she said. "He's sweet and sensitive – "

"No, he's not," I argued.

"You still want to impress _someone_," she reasoned. It was true; I wanted to impress somebody, somebody I hadn't even told Karen. "You can't go around impressing people in clothes like that."

But this was Karen Manley talking - this was the most stylish girl I knew. This was the girl who knew exactly how to flirt and never looked like an idiot. I was a tomboy; I wasn't stylish.

I didn't know how Karen and I became best friends. We're total opposites; Karen's the drama and gossip queen with an amazing body, and I was the gawky and ugly tomboy. We were quite the pair.

"Imagine how you would look in a v-neck sweater, and – oh, my – we could actually show off some cleavage! And you could wear a bra that actually fit!" Karen said; she'd begun giggling again. She loved making fun of my lack of femininity, and for the most part, it didn't hurt my feelings.

"Karen," I said. I was laughing too. "One, I have overprotective brothers. They'd never let me out of the house with cleavage. Two, my bras fit fine!"

"Yeah, right," she said. "What size bra are you wearing? A C?"

"B," I mustered. I didn't look her in the eyes.

"Jesus, you must be suffocating!" she said. "You do realize that you're at least a D, right?"

"Yes, I realize that," I said. "I'm not at least a D; I probably just a C."

"No, you're not," she argued. "You're a D. Either way, A B bra doesn't work."

"You're right about that," I admitted. "But – "

"No buts," Karen said. We'd reached the metal fence surrounding our house; Karen unlatched the gate and I opened the front door.

Ponyboy was sitting at the kitchen table.

"Thanks for waiting," I said.

"You were taking ages," he explained. He was eating chocolate cake and drinking milk straight from the carton, which was behavior quite unlike Ponyboy. Soda would do that, but Pony was usually much neater. However, today he chose to practically inhale the cake.

"In a hurry?" I asked.

"Yep," he said in between mouthfuls.

"Where ya going?" I asked as I opened the fridge.

"Out," he said shortly. He finished the cake and took one last swig of milk. "If Darry's back before I'm home, tell him I'm at Kevin's doing homework."

"But you're not going to Kevin's," I said. "Where are you going?"

Pony threw his jacket on. "Nowhere," he muttered.

"You tell me, or I'll tell Darry you went to go rob a bank," I blackmailed.

"Audrey," he made my name sound long, like he used to when we were three years old. He clearly didn't want to tell me, but he knew I'd tell Darry just that. He stole a glance at Karen. "I'm going to go see Allison."

"What?" I asked. I almost dropped the loaf of bread in my hand. "Ponyboy Curtis with a girl?"

"Oh, shut up," he said. "Just tell Darry I went to Kevin's." He was out the door in the next three seconds, but not before stealing a glance at himself in the mirror by the door.

Karen sat in the chair Ponyboy had recently vacated. "That was weird," she huffed. She slouched in her chair, and Karen never slouched.

"Who," I began as I put two pieces of bread in the toaster, "stuffs their face with cake before having sex?"

Karen didn't answer with a sassy remark like usual, instead, she quietly asked, "You don't think he's actually going to have sex with Allison, do you?"

I turned around fast. "Shit, Karen, you like him!" I had to hold onto the counter for support when Karen nodded. "He's not your type at all!"

"What's my type?" she asked defensively.

"I don't know, someone more…social," I said. "Someone more boyfriend-y. Not _my brother_."

"He's not _my_ brother," Karen said. "And if you tell him – "

"I won't, I won't," I replied. "God…Ponyboy…."

She nodded again, but remained slouched in her chair. "But – you don't think he's actually…?"

"This is Ponyboy we're talking about, right?" I asked. "No, I don't. Honestly, I don't think he even knows what sex is."

"He's a fourteen-year-old boy, what do you think?" Karen asked. She shook her head. "I didn't think he was like that either."

"I can't believe you like a guy who stuffs his face with cake before – "

"Oh, stop, Audrey," Karen said. "You just can't see where I'm coming from because he's your brother. But he's really sweet, and he actually cares about girls."

"Whenever you start talking about a guy, you first mention their personality in one sentence, and then you launch into a paragraph about their body. Please, let's _not_ go there," I begged.

Karen laughed. "You know me too well."

We heard the front door slam shut. Sodapop strolled into the kitchen a few seconds later. He pulled off his hat and placed it on my head without breaking stride.

"Hey, Aud," he said, and then pretended to just notice Karen. I knew he'd known she'd been there the whole time; nobody could misplace Karen. "Hey, Kare." Karen smiled at him. She'd flirt with anyone. "Hey, where's Pony?"

I took off his hat and placed it on the counter.

"Getting laid," Karen grumbled.

Soda fumbled the carton of milk he'd been holding. "What?"

"Karen!" I hissed. She had no idea what she was getting me into.

"He told us not to tell Darry," she said. "Didn't say anything about Soda. You won't tell Darry, right?"

Soda looked like he was having trouble digesting this. I didn't want Soda to know about this; what was Karen thinking, telling him? Sodapop would worry his head off about it. He always worried.

"Who?" Soda asked.

"You probably don't know her," I answered. "Allison Mitchell." I picked up my plate of toast and made my way out of the kitchen. I had to find some way out of this, and the easiest way appeared to be physically.

"Wait a minute," Soda said. "When did he tell you this?"

"A few minutes ago," I said. "Me and Karen are gonna be in my room, okay?"

"No, not okay," Soda said. His milk was long forgotten. "Ponyboy's fourteen!"

Karen said something so suggestive that I wouldn't have dared. But Karen had confidence, and she had the most outgoing personality of anybody I knew.

"Were you getting laid at fourteen?"

Soda looked startled at the question, but realization dawned. His eyes widened slightly and he appeared to lose his footing, although he was standing still and was braced against the counter. "You two are fourteen – you're not – "

"Got to go," I insisted, and dragged Karen out of the room. As we walked to my room, I muttered, "Why'd you say that; you gave him ideas! And Pony's gonna kill me when Soda - "

"It was worth it to see the look on his face," she replied. I looked at her blooming grin and had to laugh with her. I laughed because I was genuinely happy; something funny had occurred.

There wasn't much to laugh at nowadays.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** The Outsiders belongs to S.E. Hinton

"Would you rather marry Ricky Princhard or Peter Evans?" I asked. My range of vision only included my white ceiling, but I wasn't looking for anything interesting. I was listening to Karen as we played Would You Rather.

"Ricky!" Karen answered. "Of course!"

I turned my head; I'd been lying on my back on my bed. Karen sat on the floor. Her nails became a sunset of colors as we spoke.

"Really?" I asked. "Why? I choose Peter."

Karen made a gagging sound. "Peter Evans has successfully cheated on every girl he's ever been with."

"So?" I questioned. "He's hot."

Karen shook her head. "I worry about you."

I smiled. "He didn't cheat on all of them, anyway, not Patty."

"Yes, he did," Karen replied. "I overheard him telling a friend about it – bragging about it, actually. Apparently he hooked up with Juliet Dennis."

"What?" I asked. "Jules? But she's so…innocent."

"I thought so, too," Karen said.

"Where – " There was a knock at the door. "Yeah?"

Darry opened the door. "You," he said. He gave me what I like to call "the Darry glare" – the one that you know you're screwed when you get it. "Need to tell me where Ponyboy is. I asked Soda, and he started gagging. What's up?"

I stole a glance at Karen, whose face remained straight. "He said he was going to Kenny's to do homework," I lied.

"I'm going to go use the bathroom," Karen said. I knew she couldn't hold that face for long. She gave me a quick glance before she left to remind me to talk to Darry about my…problem. As if it wasn't the only thing on my mind.

Darry let her by. "When did he leave?"

"I don't know," I said. "It wasn't my turn to watch him." I knew it was now or never, and as much as I wanted to choose the latter, I knew the former was too important. "Um, Darry?"

"Yeah?" he asked. He noticed the new tone in my voice; he straightened slightly and furrowed his eyebrow a bit.

"I kind of…I mean…well, I need some…feminine hygiene products," I said. I rushed that last bit, and I knew my face was a tomato. Darry's face reddened too.

"Oh, I forgot about something like that," he said.

"It's – it's okay," I answered. I looked at the off white wall in my room and wondered how many other awkward situations had taken place here long before I existed. I'd bet this one could give the rest of them a run for their money.

"Here," he said. He extracted his wallet from his jeans pocket. "Is that enough?" he asked as he placed the bills in my hand.

I didn't even look at the amount; I couldn't look anywhere near Darry's face. I felt like curling up into a ball and dying, but that wasn't an option. "Yeah, that's fine," I replied.

Darry left the room, but in less than three seconds Karen had reappeared. Her straight face had been replaced by a half a foot long grin.

"Funniest – thing – ever," she said between gasps for breath.

"Glad it entertained you," I said. "Let's go." I picked myself up off my bed and Karen and I headed for the front door. "We're going shopping," I yelled. Darry and Soda were in the kitchen; Ponyboy was yet to be accounted for.

I felt Two-Bit's hard chest before I saw him; he walked right into me as I turned my head to holler.

"Oh, sorry," he said. He held the door open for us. "Oh, wait, just wondering, where's Ponyboy? I was talking to him today about something, and I was wondering - " I looked back at Two-Bit. He knew the answer before I opened my mouth. "You two are actually going shopping, right?" he asked. "Not like Pony, who's 'studying.'"

"Yes, we're actually going shopping!" I replied in angst. "And if you tell Darry Ponyboy is going to kill me."

"Did you tell Soda?" Two-Bit asked.

I glared at Karen. "Sorry!" she said. "It slipped." I knew exactly why it'd slipped, but Two-Bit didn't need to know that.

"Darry's gonna find out eventually," Two-Bit said.

"I know," I said. Karen and I were quiet until we heard the front door close.

"Sorry for telling," she apologized. "It really does bother me that he's off with Allison, though, I mean, what's wrong with me?"

"How do you think I feel?" I asked.

"Wait a second – Audrey?" Karen said. Her feet froze on the pavement. "Who do you like?"

"Nobody," I said. I realized too late the mistake I'd made.

"Yeah, sure," Karen said. She clearly didn't believe me. "Tell me, Audrey! Is it Bryon, I mean, he goes with a lot of girls – "

"No," I interrupted. "It's _not_ Bryon."

"Then who?" she asked. "Wait a minute…it's not – but Audrey, he's eighteen!"

I peddled ahead of Karen; I didn't need to see the look of shock plastered on her face.

"I know," I said.

"I guess four years isn't that much," Karen said. She always tried to get me in a relationship

"It is when you've got overprotective brothers and you're fourteen," I said. "If we were, say, eighteen and twenty-two, that'd be fine. But since I'm so young and he's not a minor there's all this law shit."

"Law of consent?" Karen asked. "But that's only if you have sex."

I just looked at Karen and waited for her to draw the conclusion. "He's Two-Bit Matthews. I can't think of a single girl he dated that he didn't do."

"Maybe," Karen said. "You'd be different."

She always tried to cheer me up. "It doesn't matter anyway. Two-Bit only dates blondes, and I'm too young, and he just thinks of me as his friends' little sister, and I have overprotective brothers, and I'm completely inexperienced, and he's never acted like he liked me at all," I said in a rush. I didn't care how much she wanted me to be happy and think there was a chance; it was only false hope.

"No he doesn't!" Karen countered. "You saw him back there! He wanted to make sure you weren't going off to make out with some random boy!"

"Only because he thinks of me as, like, a little sister," I said. "He looks out for me."

"Sister, girlfriend, same thing," Karen said, and after a pregnant pause we laughed at how false that statement was.

"Anyway," I said as I caught a breath. "There's Kathy."

"Oh, right," Karen replied. "But, hey, that's proof that he likes younger girls. She's only, what, fifteen? Sixteen?"

"I think just-turned-seventeen," I said. "And she'd never let go of him."

"He could let go of her," Karen pointed out, and that sentence put an image in my head.

"Yeah, and then he'd realize that he had some undying love for me and we'd ride off into the sunset," I pouted sarcastically.

"It could happen," she said. "Anything's possible when it comes to love."

I shook my head. "Maybe it is for you, but not for me."

"You're just saying that – "

"No, I'm not!" I said. My voice rose; I knew I was right. "How many boyfriends have you had? More than me. I'm fourteen years old and I've never had a boyfriend!"

"It's not that great to be in a relationship," Karen admitted.

"At least you can say that from experience," I sassed. "Look, what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," Karen said. "You're friends with a ton of guys." She wasn't looking me in the eye anymore; Karen couldn't take self-pity.

"_Friends_ with. No romantic interest there," I replied.

"You just don't lead them on," she said.

I raised my eyebrows. "Lead them on?"

"You know," she said. She was looking me in the eye again – this was Karen's main talent, and she was glad to teach. "Wear revealing clothes, oh-so-casually sit on their laps – or even more, you know. Flirt."

"Flirt?" I asked.

"Oh, God," Karen said. "Am I going to have to teach you how to flirt?"

"I'm sorry," I confessed. "I just suck at guy stuff."

"Don't be sorry!" she replied hastily. "Rule number one: play with your hair."

"Play with my hair?" I asked. "That's not slutty at all."

"You don't have to be a slut to get guys," she replied, but reconsidered after I raised my brunette eyebrows. "Well, these are the basics. Maybe you have to, sometimes. Twirl your hair a bit, and a guy will totally want to run his hand through it. Which equals kissing."

"It's that simple? Why haven't I caught onto this before?" I asked.

"I don't know," Karen said. "Rule number two: drop something. It's the perfect test. You know why?"

"Why?"

"You can find out if a guy wants you or your body, and if he likes your body. So, you drop something. If a guy likes you and is all chivalrous, he'll pick it up for you. If a guy wants your body, you'll bend down to pick it up and he will get a nice look at your chest. If he looks happy when you come up, he approves," Karen smirked.

"You've done that before?" I asked. "God, I didn't know you were so scandalous."

She laughed. "I do that all the time. It works. Try it."

"I will," I said. Thus was my first lesson on boys – my first real lesson, at least. I learned a lot, but looking back now, I don't think I had the best teacher.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _The Outsiders_.

When I returned home, Pony still wasn't back and Darry was getting antsy. He sat in his chair and stared at the newspaper, but he was flipped to the opinion section. He never read the opinion section; he didn't think he had the time to hear other people complain of problems and not do anything about them, just talk about it.

It was only going on ten, and Pony had been out later than this on Friday nights. Darry always worried about him, but he never seemed to worry about me. Not seriously, like he did with Pony. He'd just get out his anger on me sometimes. I think it was because Ponyboy had so much more potential – he was an honors student, all that crap. He could go places. Me? I was just going to marry some dickhead who'd probably end up abusing me and I'd have a bunch of kids and live in this crummy neighborhood all my life –

"You're sure he said he was studying?" Darry asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"For," he looked at his watch, "Seven hours?"

"Yeah," I said. We walked into the kitchen; Dallas Winton was carelessly slouched in a kitchen chair. He held a bag of ice on his right eye.

"What happened this time?" I asked.

"Shepard," Dally said. "He's an idiot."

I nodded. That wasn't far from the truth. "Is Soda home?"

Dally shook his head. "Out with Sandy and Steve."

"What about Evie?" I asked.

"They broke up."

"Really?" I asked. I put my shopping bags on the counter and sat at the table. "Why?"

"Steve cheated on her," Dallas said. He smiled at that; Dallas approved at any type of behavior like that.

"Really? He doesn't seem that type."

Dally laughed. "You don't know Steve, then. Now Steve's with some other girl – Rachel or something."

"Rachel Terrace?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's her name," Dally said. He shifted his ice pack, and his eye looked nasty underneath; it was black and blue and puffy. Dallas stole a glance at Darry's chair and lowered his voice. "Has Pony really been at some girl's house for the past seven hours?"

"Who told you?" I asked.

"Soda," he replied. "So it's true."

"I told Soda not to tell anyone!" I complained.

"He told me, Johnny, and Steve," Dallas said. "Darry still doesn't know."

"So everyone knows but Darry?" I asked. "He's gonna find out."

"Probably," Dally said. "I don't know why Pony wouldn't just tell him, though."

I had to give Dally a grim smile for his ignorance. "Because Darry would feel the need to give 'the talk.'"

Dallas grinned. "I already talked to Pony about_ that_."

"Oh, God," I said. "That's what Two-Bit said. I don't want to know what you said. Anyway, me and Pony – we try to avoid awkward situations with Darry."

"Huh," he said. "I never got the talk, and I turned out fine."

"Okay," I said. I didn't want to say anymore; it wasn't good to test Dallas Winston.

I heard the door shut. It was only Steve and Soda, who casually strolled into the kitchen and prepared to eat half of its contents.

"When did you get home?" Soda asked. He then turned to Dally. "And what happened to you?"

"I got home, like, three minutes ago," I said.

"Tim Shepard," Dallas explained.

Soda nodded.

"How's Sandy?" I asked sarcastically. Soda knew that I didn't like Sandy; I thought she was too stuck-up for him. Soda was oblivious to her stuck-up nose and rude behavior. I only didn't like her because before Soda she'd had quite the reputation of being desperate. Soda, though – he ignored all of that. She was nice, I suppose, now. She was decent – I guess Soda could have stooped lower. But Soda could do better than her.

"Fine," Soda muttered. "Pony's not home?"

"Nope," I answered.

"What Karen said earlier – "

"Means nothing," I finished. He didn't specify exactly what Karen had said, but I'd prefer if Soda didn't believe a word that issued from that girl's lips.

"Audrey, you don't have to – "

"Nothing, okay, Soda?" I asked. My face was a tomato now, and I bit my thumbnail.

Soda didn't answer. He, Dally, and Steve played poker for a few hours, and by two in the morning even I was getting worried, and I never worried about Ponyboy. Darry did enough of that already.

"Go to bed, Audrey," Sodapop said. I'd been dozing off on the couch because I needed to come up with some defense for myself when Ponyboy found out that everyone knew where he'd been.

I didn't come up with an excuse to stay up because the front door opened slowly. Pony slipped through – he looked guilty like he was holding the gun over the dead body.

"Where the hell have you been?" Darry asked. He threw the unfolded newspaper on the side table.

"Out," Ponyboy replied. Darry wouldn't accept an answer like that, though.

"Out where?"

Soda, Steve, and Dally had stopped their poker game. They were sitting around the coffee table.

"Just out," Pony said. He knew he'd never live this down if he told them, especially Dallas Winston. There was no way out, though.

Soda knew what to look for; Darry didn't. "Empty your pockets," Soda said.

"What?" Pony asked. His face was turning whiter by the second.

"You heard me," Soda said.

Ponyboy reached his hand in his left pocket; there was nothing.

"Your other pocket," Soda clarified.

This time Pony brought out something that made Darry's eyes bulge: an unopened condom.

Dally couldn't hold it in anymore – he cracked a grin.

"You were right," Soda said. He looked at me.

"You told him?" Pony asked, astonished. "I told you not to – did you tell all of them?"

"Tell them what?" Darry asked. Steve and Dally were laughing, and even Soda had to crack a grin at Darry's face.

"Ponyboy has a girlfriend," I said in a sing-song voice.

Darry didn't look too upset, in fact, he looked merely amused and curious. "Really? Who?"

"Allison Mitchell," Ponyboy said.

"Oh, don't worry," I said, and just to embarrass Pony more, I added. "She's a complete nerd. And that condom's unopened."

Darry noticed that, and he didn't frown. "Good. I want to meet her, though. And being a nerd doesn't mean anything bad, Audrey – "

"Yeah, sure," I said. Darry was just indirectly saying that I should be a nerd – not even that, but that I should do well in school. Course, I got the stupid genes in the family, and I'm not afraid to admit it, because it's so damn true.

"I'm going to bed," Pony said. That was a smart move.

"Me too," I said. I followed Ponyboy into his room.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Have fun with the nerd – I mean, Allison?" I smirked.

"Just because someone gets better grades than you doesn't make them a nerd," Ponyboy said. "It's not a hard thing to do."

That hurt. I didn't have the best grades, and Pony and Darry wasted no time pointing this out. Even Soda said things about it every once in a while; he thought I needed to work harder. He was the one who should have understood – he was the one I needed to understand.

"Thanks," I muttered. I laid down on his and Soda's bed.

"Can you please get out?" Pony asked. He pulled off his shirt.

"I'll look away," I said. I sat up and picked up the book on Pony's nightstand, _The Catcher in the Rye_. "But I really am curious – why Allison?"

"She's nice," Ponyboy said. "She's sweet and caring. I don't know. She just gets me."

"Well, that's specific," I said. "How'd you know she was the one?"

"I don't," Pony said.

"Well, how'd you know she was the one for now?"

"I don't know, she just always seemed nice and whatever, and I guess I just – wait, are you asking me dating advice?"

"Maybe," I asked.

"Oh, God," Pony said. "You can turn around now."

He was dressed in a pair of Darry's old sweats and some old t-shirt, but I was only paying attention to his amused countenance.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"What?"

"Who do you like?"

"Nobody," I lied.

"Sure," Ponyboy answered. "Well, this nobody…got any chance with them?"

I thought of Two-Bit's cheesy grin and surplus of girlfriends. "No. No chance in hell."

"That's depressing," Pony said. "I'm sure there's some chance. Why not?"

"No, there isn't," I said. "He always has a girlfriend – pretty girls."

"Audrey," Ponyboy said. He sat on the bed next to me. "You're pretty, too, you know."

"You're funny," I commented sarcastically. I wasn't pretty – I wasn't even remotely good-looking. I was too short, I had too big front teeth, my hair never stayed straight, and I was overweight. I was far from perfect.

"Really," Pony said. "I'm sure you could get any guy, okay? I'm sure you can do better than this guy; he seems like a scumbag to me."

That made me smile, if only Ponyboy knew who he was calling a scumbag. "Sure," I said. I wasn't pretty. I would never be good enough for Two-Bit.

"Course, you're too young to date," Ponyboy said.

"What?" I asked. "We're the same age!"

"I'm fifteen minutes older," Ponyboy countered.

"That doesn't matter," I said.

"Well, guys that get around aren't a great match for a girl with overprotective older brothers," Pony said. "The only reason Darry's okay with me being with Allison is because that comment you all-so-kindly mentioned, 'she's a nerd.'"

"And because you're perfect – perfect grades and on the track team and basketball and all that," I said. Thinking of the sexist world I lived in, I added, "And you're a boy."

"I'm not perfect," he said.

"Did you know that in, like, ancient times girls had kids at, like, twelve?" I asked. "And their husbands were, like, twenty? You know why?" I didn't wait for an answer. "Because the girls were mature at twelve, and the boys were mature at twenty."

"Your point?"

"Girls are more mature than boys, therefore, I'm about…say, thirty," I said.

"Sure," Pony said sarcastically. "I'm going to bed; you should too. I know you've got a long day of studying ahead of you tomorrow."

"You're funny."

…

"You knew?" Darry asked Soda the second Audrey and Pony exited the room.

"Karen let it slip to me, and I told Steve and Dally," Soda admitted.

"And not me?" Darry asked.

"We figured you'd react like this," Dally said.

"He's fourteen!" Darry exclaimed.

"Audrey said she's a nerd," Steve said.

"Yeah, Audrey's worse," Darry grumbled.

"You don't think – ?" Soda asked, and then paused. He thought for a second and then said, "I call Pony!"

"What?" Darry asked, and then realization showed on his face. "You don't mean - ? That's not fair – I can't – "

"Am I missing something?" Steve asked.

Dallas understood. "You're going to talk to Audrey – about – " He was laughing too hard to finish the sentence.

"Why can't I talk to Pony?" Darry asked. "You're closer to Audrey."

"You're talking to her, and you have to cover everything," Soda said. He grinned at the thought, but Darry cringed.

"She talked to me about – that – earlier," Darry said.

"Willingly?" Soda asked.

"You know, I'm going to go get a soda," Dally said. It was a wise decision, and Steve followed him into the kitchen.

"She needed some – er – pads," Darry said.

"Oh," Soda said. He glanced at the window. "You talk to her, okay?"

"Soda…" Darry pleaded.

"Hey, I have to talk to Pony, and that ain't gonna be a picnic," he pointed out.

"Then let's trade," Darry offered.

Soda smiled. "You're funny."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own _The Outsiders_.

"Oh, get up already!"

I groaned and rolled over. My bed was so soft and comfortable….

"Audrey Marie Curtis, get up!"

He was pulling the middle name trick. I crack my right eye open. "What?"

"It's already noon; Mrs. Sheridan's coming at one," Darry called. I heard his footsteps echo down the hallway.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. No wonder Darry had been so anxious recently; I'd forgotten about the social worker's visit. I reached for the comb on my nightstand, but in my lazy state, I fell off the bed.

I heard laughter from the doorway. I glanced up before shoving the blanket over my head – a typical reaction I'd have in the presence of a Greek God.

"Two-Bit," I grumbled.

"Up and at 'em," he laughed.

"Why don't you go do something useful," I said. "And leave me alone." I brought my knees to my chin and attempted to sink into a blissful sleep. I should've known that was impossible in the presence of Two-Bit Matthews.

"Me?" he inquired. "Useful?" He chuckled. The click of his boots approached my blanket; he attempted to rip it off. I grasped it, but in my weak state, the eighteen-year-old boy won. Hell, he would have beaten me in a strength contest even if I was wide awake. Even for a fourteen-year-old girl, I was weak.

I slowly picked myself up off the ground. "You pick up all your beer bottles 'round here?"

"I think Pony did," he replied.

"'Course you didn't do any work; why'd I even ask?" I questioned. By now I was on my feet, and I felt childish and embarrassed in my old nightgown. It was pink and frilly; Mom had picked it out for me when I was eleven. I didn't look great in anything, but I looked worse in this. "Get out," I demanded. I snatched my blanket out of his arms and wrapped it around my juvenile attire.

"Are you gonna stay awake?" he asked.

"If you leave," I answered. He gave me one last grin before he exited the room. I knew he'd taken notice of my oh-so-flattering nightgown. I groaned. I should have gotten some cute pajamas with my "girl stuff" money, but bras and pads were priority. Maybe next month.

I dressed in a simple skirt and a simpler top. Karen was right, the new bra did make me look better on top. Of course, I couldn't look that much better because there wasn't that much redeemable stuff to work with. I couldn't help but notice how large my hips looked in this skirt.

Even after ripping a comb through my hair for ten minutes, it wouldn't stand straight. I was tempted to hack it all off, so I threw it into a ponytail.

I didn't look pretty at all; what had Ponyboy been talking about? There was an all-too-visible zit on my nose, my hair was stringy and brown, my nose was too big, my front teeth oversized, my eyes were too small, my hips were too big, my breasts were too big – hell, my whole middle was too big, my feet were too big –

I caught the small case Karen had convinced me to buy yesterday in the corner of my eye. I told Karen she was crazy for making me buy this, but secretly I'd always wanted it. I'd always wanted make-up; maybe for once I'd be pretty. Maybe I'd even be beautiful.

Fat chance. I was an ogre in the mirror.

"Audrey, it's twelve thirty and she always comes early. You ready?"

"Yeah, Dare," I called back. I gave up on my decency and entered the living room. Darry paced from the TV to the couch; he couldn't sit down. Occasionally he'd move something around in a feeble attempt to clean the house even more, but it was spotless already; his actions were pointless. Soda sat on the couch – when he was nervous, he couldn't move. He was holding the newspaper, but Soda never read the paper because he didn't have the concentration. Ponyboy lay on the floor and did homework; he was always at ease. At least, he seemed it – I had no idea what went through that boy's head.

Two-Bit had cleared out, I assumed. I wished he hadn't – as much as I told him I wanted him out, I didn't. He comforted me. I walked to the kitchen and picked up an apple; I had to have something in my hands. We all got nervous and anxious when the social worker came, even though she was incredibly kind, and always wanted the best for us, and at the moment, she thought the best would be to keep us together.

We'd known her longer than the eight months since our parents died – she and Mom were friends; they grew up together. I'd known her my whole life.

I heard a knock at the door and then I heard Darry and Mrs. Sheridan chatting. I didn't want to enter the room yet; I was still nervous. After five minutes or so of tossing an apple from hand to hand, I entered the living room.

"Hi, Mrs. Sheridan," I said. My smile was fake at first, but my eyes crinkled when I hugged her. The middle-aged woman had become somewhat of my mother in the past months.

When we broke apart she asked, "Ready to go?"

Every month when she visited she took me out to lunch for "girl talk." That's what she called it, anyway. At first I was uneasy, but now I enjoyed it. It was nice to have somebody who cared about what I had to say – not like Karen, who would simply shoot back her own problems.

Of course, I couldn't complain that much, or Mrs. Sheridan might think I wasn't happy here.

Was I happy here? Sure, I was happy to be with my brothers, but this house seemed to just be one big reminder of my late parents. Sometimes I was happy, but sometimes I just wanted to get away. Ponyboy told me once that he wished to go to the country.

Not me. I wanted to go to a city and be somebody. Not a city like Tulsa. This wasn't a city; this wasn't somewhere where you could become somebody. I wanted to go to Hollywood, L.A., New York. I wanted to be somebody.

"How's school going?" Mrs. Sheridan asked. "Started two weeks ago, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's going fine, I guess." I didn't mention how hard my classes were, how I was already slipping behind. I'd never been too good at school, and this was no different. I thought of how she could interpret that – she could think I needed to go to a private school that Darry couldn't afford, or I wasn't in a comfortable studying zone at my house, or –

"Everything going fine at school?" she asked.

"Social-wise, you mean? Yeah," I said.

"Lots of parties?" she asked. She smiled and stopped at the stop sign; we were only a few minutes from the restaurant we went to every month.

"That's funny," I said. "I don't get invited to parties." I realized what I'd said, and I tried to change it, to make myself sound less depressed, but all I could come up with was, "I mean – "

"That's not a bad thing," she said. "Just means you don't hang out with people like that."

_Or I don't hang out with people at all_, I thought. Karen told me stories about parties, and although I had been invited to a couple; they weren't anything special. It was just a few friends – less than a dozen. No drugs, no sex, no booze. Karen told me about _those_ kinds of parties, but she'd never bothered to invite me along.

"I guess," I said.

"So what do you do with friends, then?" she asked.

_Friend_, I thought. Karen was my only real friend, and I mean the one that I felt comfortable calling and dishing out all my problems. Even then, that was a loose definition – she wasn't great at being my friend. I knew other kids, sure, but they were just classmates, or acquaintances.

"You know," I said. "Shop, talk, hang out, I guess."

"Shop," she repeated. "Guess you don't get a lot of that in your house."

"Nope," I said, and I laughed with her. "Darry isn't big on shopping. But he gives me shopping money, and I go with other friends." I didn't want to sound ungrateful, or like I wanted or needed a shopping buddy.

We pulled into the restaurant. It was a dingy diner named Kenny's, and mostly old people went there. It wasn't a place kids hung out, but Mrs. Sheridan liked it, and she thought I did. Honestly, it kind of gave me the creeps. There were too many old people and it smelled funny.

It gave off the same odor as always – fish mixed with fertilizer. It was an odd mix, but I couldn't think of a better way to describe it.

"Table for two?" Mrs. Sheridan asked. The bored waitress directed us to our table; it was a small one in the corner near the window. She handed us menus and left.

"What do you think you'll be getting?" she asked. "I'm thinking about the blueberry pancakes."

"Those sound good," I said.

"Since we were talking about school, I was wondering," Mrs. Sheridan said. She hesitated; I knew we were entering rocky territory. I had best watch my step. "I know a school pretty close, maybe an hour away. It's a girls' high school, and it's a boarding school. I've been looking into it for a while; it's hard to get in. They like to have girls from a variety of backgrounds, and I've figured how to secure you a spot if you'd like. You could start next semester. Your grades last year were decent, and if you get decent grades this semester they would let you in free, you could get financial aid. What do you think?"

"That's really nice of you Mrs. Sheridan," I said. I'd just built myself a lifeboat, in case I said something to be misinterpreted. "But I don't think I'd like that. I'd miss my brothers too much, and I like my life now."

"Do you?" she asked. I could tell we weren't talking about the school anymore; this was about me.

"Yeah," I said. "I mean, I miss my parents, and sometimes I guess I don't love my life, but every teenager's like that." That was a lie. I hated my life – I hated having no real friends and having to worry all the time about money and staying together; I hated having awkward conversations; I hated not getting any guys – I hated everything about myself. I hated being stupid – Mrs. Sheridan calling my grades "decent" was a stretch. I hated my life. Teenagers weren't like that – not all of them. Not all of the time.

As much as I hated my life, I didn't want to leave it. My life and I – we were like drugs, I suppose. I didn't like it, but I was addicted to it. No, not drugs. A wedlock baby. You're stuck with it, but if you do anything to try to get rid of it, you just feel horrible. But you still hate it, and it slowly kills you.

"I'm happy," I lied.

"You could come back home on holidays," she said. "And maybe some weekends."

"It doesn't really appeal to me," I said.

"You could have a brighter future," she said. "Employers will see that name; colleges will see that name."

"Employers?" I echoed. "Colleges?"

She nodded.

"But I…" I mumbled. "I've never thought about that." I'd never considered it a possibility. Darry always went off on tangents about Ponyboy going to college, never mentioned me. He wanted me to raise my grades, but he wasn't nearly as harsh about it as with Pony. I'd seen it happen to all the girls in my neighborhood – they just married some guy they didn't love and had babies. Wash, rinse, repeat. It made it harder to submit to your fate if you had false hope of a future.

"Women can go to college, you know," Mrs. Sheridan said. "I worry about you, living without any women…I worry you feel neglected. Like you're not worth anything."

I hated that. The one woman who understood me – I couldn't open up to her, or she'd try to help me. I hated that, too. I shied away from people who tried to help me. But I felt so guilty…Darry tried so hard…I loved my brothers.

"It's not where I live," I said. "It's the world. Women can go to college, I suppose, but most don't. It's not even just Tulsa or anything – it happens everywhere." I hoped I put up a convincing argument, and Mrs. Sheridan seemed to buy it. She nodded.

"I know," she said. "It's a sad world we live in." She tucked her hair behind her ear. From the way she crossed her legs, I could tell I was into even rockier territory than before. I held my breath. "There's something else," she said. "I don't even want to ask, to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, because I doubt it's true, but I'm going to have to ask anyway – it's just protocol, and I won't judge you on your answer or anything of the sort, but please just answer honestly, and don't worry about what will happen."

That scared the hell out of me. Mrs. Sheridan never mumbled or stuttered or stopped short, and she was never this awkward or nervous. I'd _never_ seen her nervous – it was in the job description or something. I didn't tell her to spit it out; I didn't want her to.

"Has anyone – anyone – hurt you? I mean in any way – physically, emotionally, anything. Made you feel uncomfortable, anything?" she asked.

I almost died on the spot. She thought – "Just because I live in a house with all boys, doesn't mean they take advantage of me, Mrs. Sheridan," I said. My voice remained steady, but I was fuming inside.

Freakin' stereotypes.

"I didn't think so, I just had to ask," she explained.

Now that I think about it, I didn't answer that question "no." I avoided it actually, but Mrs. Sheridan was just as willing to leave the topic.

**Author's Note:** Four chapters down! In case you haven't realized by now, I update every four days – so the next day will be December 20th, then the 24th, 28th, January 1st, etc. If I don't update on these dates, feel free to yell at me through messages – you'll get your chapters that way for sure. By the way, reviews make my day; long reviews make my week The more reviews, the better the story, the more you'll enjoy it. So if you review you're benefiting too. What do you think of Audrey/Two-Bit? Allison/Ponyboy, or Karen/Ponyboy? Someone else altogether? Any ideas – let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Don't own _The Outsiders_.

It sat on the corner of my dresser. Only six inches by six inches, but it folded out into something six by eighteen. It was colorful inside, but it had just as many neutrals as colors. There were powders and gels and lotions.

I debated on letting it sit there for all of eternity, but one look in the mirror made me reconsider. My face was blotchy; there was a zit on my nose. My eyelashes were non-existent, and my lips were colorless.

I'd worn make-up before. Mom had always applied it on me before special occasions – Christmas, Easter, graduations. Just before she passed away, I'd gotten the hang of using it myself. Mom said she would get me some for my fourteenth birthday, but I could use hers up until them. Other girls my age in the neighborhood were already wearing make-up daily.

I wanted to wear it – I thought it was fun to mix with the colors. After she died, I didn't see the fun in it anymore. But now I'd found a new reason to put gunk on my face – to look beautiful. No, even with make-up, I wouldn't look beautiful; I'd look decent.

I didn't put much on – only some consealer, a coat of mascara, and a dab of lip gloss. I already looked better, though. _Better_ being the key word there. Not great, not pretty.

Soda lay on the couch clad in only a pair of jeans and a baseball cap. Monday mornings weren't kind on him; his hair stood up in tufts and his eyes drooped in front of the TV.

Two-Bit was wide awake and mesmerized by the TV – Mickey Mouse was on. He had a beer bottle in one hand and a plate of chocolate cake in the other.

I glanced at the clock. "Soda," I said. He jerked awake and fell off the couch. Two-Bit laughed and sloshed his beverage on the floor.

"What?" he muttered.

"You're running late," I said. "Again."

He saw the clock and jumped off the floor. "Shit," he muttered. He ran out of the room. I glanced at Two-Bit, but I tried not to look like I was melting.

"Nice breakfast," I commented.

"Thanks," he replied; his eyes didn't leave the screen. Was Mickey Mouse really more important than me?

I disguised my pain and I walked into the kitchen. Everything was as usual – Darry sat at the table, sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper. I hated seeing him like that – when he looked like that, I could imagine all too easily what he'd be like in five, ten years. Ponyboy sat at the table also, but he had milk and cake in front of him. I didn't understand how everyone if this house could stomach cake for breakfast – I couldn't eat pure sugar until at least ten o'clock. I pulled an apple out of the fridge.

Johnny was also at the table; he'd taken our couch last night. He also chowed down on cake. Maybe it was testosterone – maybe that's what made my house crave chocolate at ungodly hours of the morning, but not me.

"I'll be home late today," Darry said. "Seven or eight. So you better have done your homework by then, okay?"

"Of course," I smiled. He caught my sass. "What else would I be doing?" I shot a glance at Ponyboy, who spilled milk all over his shirt.

"You are so immature," Pony said. He grabbed a napkin and blotched his shirt.

"I don't have to worry about him as much as you," Darry said.

"What?" I blurted out. "I'm not the one who was 'studying.'"

Darry ruffled his newspaper. "You're a girl, which means you over-analyze everything and make rash decisions based on false hope."

"You're a boy, which means you have completely whacked intensions," I said.

"What do you mean?" Pony asked.

"If I said what I was thinking, Darry would ground me for life," I explained.

"Probably," Darry assumed. He smiled. As much sarcasm as he used on us, as much as he yelled at us, as much as he complained, he didn't want to leave us.

Steve strolled into the room. "Where's Soda?"

"Running late," Darry replied. "Can you go get him?"

Steve didn't need anymore persuasion, and a minute later he followed a uniformed Sodapop into the kitchen. The almost seventeen-year-old boy was trying to tie his shoes while he walked.

Darry grinned. "Let's go." Soda and Darry left the kitchen without another word, but Steve took a swig out of the carton of chocolate milk before following.

And they wonder why I don't drink their milk or eat their cake.

The second we heard the car's engine start, Two-Bit walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. "Who _doesn't_ want to go to school today?"

The eighteen-and-a-half-year-old junior put his right hand in the air, and Johnny and I followed suit. Ponyboy glared at Two-Bit.

"Stop brainwashing the youth," Pony muttered. "I wouldn't put it past Darry to ground us for life if Audrey or I skipped school."

"He'd ground you, not me," I muttered, but nobody heard me.

"Fine," Two-Bit said. "Me and Johnnycake'll ditch."

Johnny smiled at that, but he added, "Pony's got a point."

"Fine," Two-Bit grumbled. "You want to submit yourselves to the system, fine. Let's go."

We paraded out to Two-Bit's car.

"Shotgun," Pony called. He did this every day, and neither Johnny nor I were smart enough to think to call it first. So Johnny and I always sat in the back. It would've been good bonding time, but we couldn't talk – Two-Bit complained loudly about everything under the sun in our trips to school.

Two-Bit put the key in the ignition and started the car. Actually, he _tried_ to start to car. It sputtered and failed. "Shit," he muttered, and tried again. No luck. He turned his head so Johnny and I could see the glisten in his eyes. "How would you all like to walk?"

"It's really convenient, you know? My car just happens to break down in the driveway of a guy who works in car mateinance. How much luckier can you get than that? I suppose it would've been better at the shop, but still, this beats most all," Two-Bit rambled. He and I walked ten feet behind Pony and Johnny, and I couldn't deny I had butterflies in my stomach.

"How are you such an optimist?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I've never heard you say anything negative. You always look on the bright side of things, I don't know," I said. "Not many people are like that. It's a good thing, I mean." Gosh, I sounded like an idiot. I had to get better at thinking before I spoke. Two-Bit didn't mention it, though, and I loved him for that.

"You haven't heard me talk about some things, then," Two-Bit said.

"Like what?"

"You know," he said. "Bitchy girls and their asshole ex-boyfriends."

He wasn't looking at me; I could tell he was lost in something. "What's wrong?" I asked.

He looked back at me. "You wouldn't care," he said. "It's not a big deal."

"Try me," I said. "I bet I'll care. And I bet I can help. I'm good at advice." That was a blatant lie; I never gave advice. I couldn't run my own life; how could I help others? But I'd take any chance to get closer to Two-Bit.

"Fine," he said. "Kathy thinks I'm cheating on her."

"Are you?" I asked. He didn't look at me.

"I did once, but it wasn't anything," he said. "I'm not now. She ran off to her ex-boyfriend and she says they're 'just friends' but I know something's up."

"Who's the ex-boyfriend?" I asked.

"Jimmy Kolfer," he said. "I know something's up."

"There's something else," I said. "You wouldn't care if she was talking to some random guy; you're not like that. You wouldn't care if she was even cheating on you – you cheat on her, probably more than you'll admit. And you like relationships like that, because you can't stand commitment. And from what I know about Jimmy Kolfer, he's not that terrible a guy. There's something else." I wondered why I was so attractive to Two-Bit – I'd said it myself: he shied from commitment. Who wanted a boyfriend who was practically guaranteed to cheat on them? But I knew why. I thought I'd be the exception; I thought I could be special. Not only that, but Two-Bit was irresistible. Bad boys are. Not the Dallas Winston type – at least not for me. See, the difference with Dally and Two-Bit: Dal is how he is because he hates the world. Two-Bit's himself because he loves the world. At least, he acts like it. I wish I knew him well enough to say that statement with confidence.

"You know me too well," he admitted. "She's not having sex with me anymore."

"How long has that been going on?" I asked.

"A week or so," he said. "It's not even that, but you know, she's not putting out at all." He shook his head. "_Why_ am I telling _you_ this?"

"Because I know your reason," I said. "It's not Jimmy or anything like that. It's her – er – time of the month."

"Oh," Two-Bit said. "So she'll be better real soon?"

"Um, yeah," I said. "I mean, if you call how she always is better, fine."

"What do you mean?" Two-Bit asked.

"Your taste in girls…it's – "

"Not the little church girl?" he asked. "Yeah."

"Not even that," I clarified. I didn't know how to say this politely, or if I should say it at all.

"No, tell me," Two-Bit asked. He stood walking; we were close to school. First period was about to start in just a minute or two, and Ponyboy gave me a forlorn glance as he and Johnny hurried inside. "I'm really curious, actually."

"Why?" I asked.

"Outside opinions," he answered. "I can refine my technique. You know?"

"God," I muttered. I shuffled my feet and looked down. "Look, I just think that – for lack of a better word – you only like girls because they 'put out;' you only like them because they're sluts. Because you can't handle a decent relationship, I mean, you choose girls for the wrong reasons. You know?"

"Who says they're the wrong reasons?" he asked. The bell rang. "Do you really want to go in there?"

"Darry will kill me," I said.

"No he won't, and that's not an answer," he said.

"Fine," I said. "He won't kill me, but he will ground me for life. And no, I don't want to go in there."

Two-Bit grinned. "You're already grounded for being late," he said. "And you can't blame me and the car 'cause Pony was on time."

"I'll pull the period card," I said, and Two-Bit laughed. To further entertain him, I said in a sing-song voice, "I needed to go to the bathroom…I had a…leak."

With a smile, Two-Bit said, "Go for it, but make sure I'm there. I want to see the look on his face."

"Will do," I said. I smiled too. I hadn't had time alone with Two-Bit in a long time – well, ever. My brothers were always around – really, he was my brothers' friend, not mine. I was just his friends' kid sister. "Where are we going, if school isn't today's destination?"

"You mean, where am _I_ going," Two-Bit corrected. "I can't go '_brainwashing the youth_.'"

It had been too good to last. "Fine. Where are you going?"

"Somewhere they don't let fourteen-year-olds in," he said. "Go to class."

"See ya tonight, Two-Bit," I said. I walked to the doors of school regretfully.

"See ya."

Author's Note: Sorry I didn't include Darry's "talk" with Audrey. I don't even think it'll come next chapter; if things go as planned; it'll be two chapters. Oh, well, it'll be your New Year's present! Next chapter to come on Christmas Eve! Oh, and by the way…reviews make me extremely happy!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _The Outsiders_

As Two-Bit suggested, I went to class. I wanted to run off with Two-Bit, and I wanted to know where he was going. I fantasized about that all morning. I was worried about where he'd gone. Worried for my jealousy, I mean – not because I thought he was in danger, or anything. Only if danger meant sluts.

I sat with the same group of girls at lunch – Karen and a few others.

"I can't believe you, Kare!" Katherine giggled. She didn't mean it; she flipped her hair behind her shoulder. "You did _what_ with Dennis at the party?"

I had no idea what Katherine was talking about, but judging by the other girls' giggles and Karen's smirk, they were in the loop. I smiled to feel a part of it all, but I had never heard of this party. It was yet another thing that Karen had forgotten to mention.

"It's not a big deal," Karen replied. She took a bite out of her apple. I knew who they were talking about – Dennis Cramer. He was a junior with dark hair and a body that girls would kill for. Most of them didn't have to; this guy sure got around.

"Yes it is! Karen, don't you think you're going too fast?" Sara asked.

"No," she replied. "Anyway, he said he wanted to see me during seventh period." She only wanted to brag.

"Did he say what he wanted?" Helen asked, nearly choking on her sandwich. Karen laughed.

"No," she said. She grinned.

The other girls gasped, and I gasped along with them. I wondered why Karen had never told me, and, more importantly, why she'd done whatever she'd done with Dennis Cramer. I didn't want to speak – I didn't want to sound like an ignorant idiot. I didn't want to hint that I'd never been kissed, when all the girls at this table had gone farther.

I sat through lunch, but I only anticipated the next class. At least then I wouldn't have to be awkward. I zoned out of the conversation I'd already pealed myself away from and found myself looking at Andrew Reynolds. He was a quiet kid; I didn't know him well, even though he was from our neighborhood. He sat alone at lunch because not many people bothered to get to know him. There was nothing contagious about him except for his lack of popularity, but that meant all the world to most teenagers.

He didn't seem to mind sitting alone, but I wondered if he was like me – what he acted like on the outside was nothing like what he was feeling on the inside.

After lunch, I was standing at my locker when the guy who'd been on my mind ever since Karen had mentioned him Friday night appeared.

"Audrey Curtis," he said. I hated it when guys did that – tried to say a girl's name in a sexy way. They thought it was cool, or that it made a girl feel good. They thought it made a girl feel personalized. I couldn't say it was horrible, but I didn't like to be labeled my last name.

"What, Bryon?" I asked. I acted irritated, but I didn't really want him to go. It was crazy – I didn't like this boy at all – he repulsed me – and yet, I wanted him to stay because he was a boy.

"Are you free today?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked. I thought I understood him, but I'd embarrassed myself enough today.

"Do you want to come to my house today?" he clarified.

I didn't want to, but I saw Karen walk down the hallway with Dennis Cramer at her side. His hand was dangerously low on her back. But more than that, I thought of Two-Bit – he'd never dated a girl as innocent as I. "Fine," I said.

I wasn't a complete idiot about the whole thing. Despite Karen's inclusiveness at lunch, I talked to her about Bryon. I tried to between sixth and seventh period, but Dennis approached and Karen became far too involved in him to care for my concerns. But I had last period math class with her, and there was no one better for her to talk to in the class.

"I told you so," Karen said. "I told you you like him!"

I didn't want to admit that I didn't actually like the guy, but I wanted to use him to get more popular and fit in. Karen wasn't the type of girl you tell that to.

"Do you still like Two-Bit?" she asked.

"A little," I lied. I didn't want her spreading rumors. "Look, what do I do? You know I've never – "

"Audrey, don't worry," she said. "It's not that hard."

"That's what you think," I replied. "I not good at this stuff."

"It's not hard. And with a guy like Bryon, he'll do the leading," Karen said. "All you have to do is drop your pants."

"Wait – what?" I asked. "No, I didn't think that's what he thought – Karen – I'm not going to – "

"That's what you think now," she said. "What did he say?"

"He asked me to come over after school," I answered.

"To his house?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Yeah, you better realize that you're going to have sex," Karen said. She said it like she was talking about something as casual as homework.

"I'm not – wait, Karen, I didn't think you – "

Karen smiled and looked down. I realized.

"You did _it_ with Dennis Cramer?" I asked.

"Yeah," she admitted, but it wasn't with regret, and that scared me.

"He's – but you know he gets around; you know all that! You're not even going steady with him, why would you - ?"

"You like Two-Bit, and he's just like that," she said. "So is Bryon."

"I guess so," I said. "Wait – but you liked Pony."

"And he liked Allison," she said.

"Are you trying to make him jealous?" I asked.

"And I'm having fun along the way," she replied.

I glanced at the clock; two minutes left of class. Normally this would excite me, but I had butterflies in my stomach.

"Maybe I shouldn't," I said. "Go to Bryon's, I mean. I'm not ready, Karen, this is crazy!"

"You just don't think you're ready," she said. "You'll be fine."

"No, I won't," I said. But I had a crowd to be a part of, and I was already falling behind.

Bryon met me at my locker after the bell rang. He took my bag. I couldn't imagine that a boy as chivalrous as him would only want me for sex. And at first, he didn't.

"Are you going home?"

I turned; a dark haired boy had asked these words. I vaguely recognized him.

"Yeah," Bryon said. The other boy looked at me in expectation.

"I'm Mark, Bryon's brother," he said. "You're Ponyboy Curtis's sister, right?"

"Audrey," I said. "Yeah."

He nodded. "I won't be home until later."

When Mark left, Bryon and I began our walk to him house. He lived near me – we were both from the same side of town.

"That's your brother?" I asked. "You two look nothing alike."

"I know," he said. "My mom took him in when he was nine and his parents died."

"Oh," I said. "Do you two get along?" He was easy to talk to, and I didn't mind it when his fingers intertwined with mine.

"Yeah," Bryon said. "We never fight. You get along with your brothers?"

"God, no," I said. "They're the biggest pain in the asses I've ever seen."

Bryon laughed. "You can't mean that."

"I don't completely. They can be incredibly annoying to deal with sometimes, though," I admitted.

"Mark can be like that sometimes, I guess," Bryon said. "He's a complete idiot when it comes to some things – you know Bridget Summers?"

"Yeah, kind of," I said. "She's that pregnant senior, right?"

"Yeah," Bryon replied. "So, her boyfriend, Johnson – I don't remember his first name – cheats on her. So I was talking to Mark about it, and Mark on that guy's side."

"He is?" I asked. "Why?"

"That's what I wondered, so I asked him, and he said that that was just what guys are supposed to do," he said.

"And you don't think that?" I asked.

"Of course not," he replied. I don't know what I thought before about Bryon being a jerk. He was a misunderstood, sensitive guy. There were guys out there who didn't only want sex. There were guys who were sensitive and easy to talk to.

Bryon's house was empty when we arrived, and he fixed us some grilled cheese. Not only was he sensitive, but he could cook. I hadn't had a meal this good since Mom and Dad passed away, not even at a diner or anything.

We sat on his couch and ate the meal. He turned on the small black and white TV and we watched some after school special.

"That guy is such an idiot," Bryon said. "He should know that if he stand that girl up that she's gonna try and make him jealous with Darlene." Ten minutes late he added, "Oh, look, I was right."

"You're good," I said.

He shook his head. "This show's too predictable," he said.

"Maybe," I said. "I don't mind it. It keeps my mind off heavier stuff, you know?"

He nodded and put his arm around my waist. His arm was thick and hard, and I felt at ease with it wrapped around me. I rested my head on his shoulder, and it was comfortable. I was so short and he was tall enough that I didn't have my head tilted too far.

I felt that we could sit like that forever, but Bryon had other ideas. He slid his hand lower until it rested on my hip. I shivered.

"You okay?" he asked, always sensitive.

"Fine," I answered.

"I'll go put the dishes away," he said, but it was just an excuse to change our position subtly. There's only so far you can comfortably go while sitting on a couch with an amateur like me.

When he returned, he sat in the chair next to the couch. "Come sit," he invited. He patted his lap. Course, he wasn't planning on acting like Santa Claus – much the opposite, and I didn't know how I felt being his accomplice.

I put my legs through the holes the armrests left in the chair; I was facing Bryon. I was nervous as hell; my hands shook as I put them around his neck, but Bryon steadied my fears. He put his hands around my lower back, and then even lower.

The only thing that got me through was the thought of all the others girls and their multiple boyfriends.

But when Bryon kissed me, it didn't feel magical. I couldn't deny imagining my first kiss – I'd thought of it as a beautiful thing. I'd thought I'd be a princess and he'd be the prince, but I just felt like another washed-up Southern girl. I didn't feel special.

When my shirt lay on the ground, I realized that Bryon's sensitive act was just that – an act. I broke from his lips; he looked startled.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked.

"How many girls have you tried this with?" I asked. "How many have you played the grilled cheese trick, or the part where we were just watching TV? That whole thing about Bridget, you don't really believe that, do you?"

"What?" he asked. "No one. It's only you, Audrey. I am who I am."

I looked down. Maybe I was over-analyzing things. I shouldn't jump to conclusions; I couldn't blame Bryon for my insecurities. I felt Bryon's cool fingers on my back, and he unhooked my bra strap in one fluid motion. I was silent and still as he took it off me.

"What's wrong?" he asked. His hands rubbed me where I'd never been rubbed, and I felt good there. I thought about telling his my doubts and fears, but that would ruin the moment. What was the point in doing that?

His right hand slid down my stomach and unbuttoned my skirt. I closed my eyes.

The phone rang.

"Dammit," he grumbled. The phone was on the table next to the chair, and he picked it up. "Yeah?" He relaxed, obviously the call wasn't important. "She's not here. Yeah, I'll tell her you called. Bye."

"Who was that?" I asked.

"No one important," he said. "Just someone for my mom. Now, where were we?"

I looked down, and that was all Bryon needed to continue his work.

"No," I muttered, and became stronger. "No."

"What?" he asked.

The phone call seemed to have snapped me back into action; I finally realized what was going on. "No," I said. "I can't – look, it's just…I barely know you, Bryon."

"You can get to know me," he said.

"This isn't the way," I replied. I picked my bra and shirt up off the floor and redressed myself. "Thanks," I muttered. I headed for the door.

"I know why you did it," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"Why you came here, and why you left," he said. "I didn't think you would come. And you were right; you're not the first girl."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. It only made me feel worse.

"You're the most insecure bitch I've ever seen," he said. I stumbled back like I'd been slapped in the face; my eyes stung. Bryon had never looked bitterer. "I see the way you look at yourself; you hate yourself more than you hate anyone. You came because you want to be a different girl, and that's why you stopped. You thought I'd reject you; you couldn't bear that happening. You want to know the truth?"

"No," I replied.

"I might not have rejected you then, but I sure do now," he said.

I slammed the front door behind me, and I was only twenty feet from his house when I collapsed in tears.

Author's Note: Happy Holidays! And review, review, review please! Did you like hearing from some characters from That Was Then, This Is Now – or do you prefer new characters like Karen and Dennis? Oh, and what do you think of Karen now, after hearing about her incident? Do you like Audrey/Bryon? Any comments, critiques, ideas, or predictions would be amazing!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _The Outsiders_.

I'm a crier. When I start crying, I can't stop. And I cry about everything – a scabbed knee, a sad book or movie, someone else crying…I was a river at my parents' funeral. Ponyboy and Soda cried, too, but they didn't cry as much as me. I locked myself in my room for a day afterwards, but eventually Ponyboy got me to come out. And yeah, I was still crying. Darry didn't cry, though. He never cries. I wish I was like him.

I sat on the curb for a while, but eventually the sun started to go down, and I figured I'd better head home. I slung my school bag over my shoulder and trudged down the street. My face was still red and blotchy even though I'd stopped crying, so I stopped at the fountain in the park and cupped some of the frigid water in my hands. I splashed it onto my face and shivered.

I still didn't want to go home. I felt like crap. I wanted my mom more than anything, and because of that I felt like a little kid. She always knew what to say; she wouldn't judge me. She'd help me out, and in a week what had happened with Bryon would be nothing. It was just that – a mistake – but the only person that could make me believe that was my mother.

Darry was okay, but he wasn't anything like Mom. Darry only knew cold, hard fact – he didn't know what to do when it came to things like feelings. Even Soda or Ponyboy – I couldn't tell them all my problems. Soda would just tell me that everything would be okay, and not to worry. But of course I'd worry because not everything was okay. He wouldn't help anything. And then he'd be riddled with guilt because he couldn't protect his little sister. Ponyboy would do the same, and maybe he'd try to give me some advice – that is, if he could get his head out of a book for long enough to listen to me.

The sun had almost completely set by then, and I knew that Darry would be home any minute, unless he was already home. If I wasn't home when he was, he'd ask where I'd been. And what would I tell him? Not the truth, of course. I looked at my reflection in a car window; it was dim, but I could see that my face was no longer red. I had another problem – there were black blotches under my eyes.

I walked back to the fountain and tried to wash off the blotches, and I washed most of the mascara off my cheeks. This make-up was more trouble than it was worth. By the time I finished with that, it was completely dark, and I knew Darry was home. It had to be at least eight o'clock, probably closer to nine. I tried to think of a good excuse for where I'd been.

I couldn't say studying, because Darry knew I didn't study at friend's houses, and I would never study for that long. And Ponyboy had used that excuse on Friday…. I could say I'd been at Karen's, but Darry would still get mad. If he knew where I'd actually been, I think he'd be angrier.

I'd never been out this late on a school night, and I'd always told Darry where I was going. I never went out on school nights for the most part, though – I didn't go out on weekends much either. I didn't get invited to go anywhere much.

I quietly slipped through the metal gate outside the house. I couldn't hear anything but the low murmur of the TV from inside the house, which wasn't good – especially since it sounded like the news. That meant Darry picked the station, because everybody else hated the news. And since nobody had fought him on it…

I decided to act like I hadn't done anything wrong – maybe then Darry wouldn't think it was a big deal. It was only nine o'clock, right?

The first thing I looked when I walked in was the clock above the television – ten thirty.

Crap.

Darry sat on his chair and Soda sat on the couch, and with one look at them I knew my plan wasn't going to work.

"You better have a damn good excuse for where you've been," Darry commanded. Soda looked more sympathetic, but he made no effort to make Darry back down. They always knew when I was doing something wrong – they could sense it or something, I don't know. If I'd really just been out studying or with Karen or something innocent like that, they'd already know. I don't know how they got this fourth sense, but I hated it.

"I was at Karen's," I lied. "Sorry – I lost track of time."

"No you weren't," Soda said. "Karen stopped by around five looking for you."

"Yeah, um," I said. I didn't know what to say. "Okay, fine."

The right corner of Soda's mouth upturned. "Karen didn't stop by."

"You mean…?" I asked. "You tricked me!" He would be clever like that. I don't know why people think Pony and Darry are the smart ones in the family – book smart, maybe, but Soda's the genius.

"Where were you?" Darry asked after giving Soda an impressed glance.

"I just went for a walk," I said.

"Long walk," Soda muttered.

"Whose side are you on?" I asked.

Soda didn't answer my question. "Darry, you know that thing we talked about Friday night?" Darry nodded. "You didn't do that yet, did you?"

"I've been busy," Darry replied. His face reddened slightly.

"Yeah, sure," Soda said. "Now would be a good time. Actually, this morning would've been better."

"Why?" Darry asked.

Soda nodded towards me. "Her shirt's inside out."

I swore under my breath and looked down; Soda was right. Maybe he didn't have a fourth sense; I was just an idiot.

Darry was more forceful this time: "Where were you?"

"I was at another friend's house – we were trying on clothes – "

"Stop lying, Audrey," Soda interrupted. "We're not trying to chew you out; we're just trying to help."

When would they realize that their idea of "help" wasn't my idea of it?

"I didn't do anything," I admitted. There – vague, generic statements. They couldn't make anything bad out of that. Course, they couldn't settle with just that.

"Define 'anything,'" Darry said. I sat on the opposite end of the couch from Soda.

"I didn't do _it_," I muttered. I didn't look up.

"How far?" Soda asked. He ruffled his hair; he hated asking questions.

"Farther than I wanted to, okay?" I said. For once, I could say something truthful that would make them happy. They wanted a number, and they always got what they wanted from me. "Second," I said. It had been borderline on third, but I knew second would freak them out enough. I didn't look at Darry because I had a funny feeling that he was having a mild heart attack at the moment. Darry was like that – was made to be a father.

"Who?" Soda asked. He wasn't as affected by this – actually, he probably just as astonished by this information, but he was better at hiding it. I suppose no older brothers want to hear about their little sister's sex life – or lack thereof.

I hadn't looked at them in half a minute. "Bryon Douglas."

"Did he hurt you?" Darry asked. He always thought to protect me.

"No!" I said. Too quickly, though. Soda saw through it, but Darry didn't. He'd hurt me more than they'd ever know.

"Darry, do you want to take it from here?" Soda asked.

"Oh my God," I muttered. I crossed my arms across my chest.

"Not really, but I will," Darry said. "Audrey, you don't have to look at the floor and cringe."

"Sorry," I said. I looked up, though, and they didn't look as unpleasant as I'd imagined. "You're never gotten _the talk_ from overprotective older brothers, have you?"

"We got it from Dad," Darry said. "That's ten times worse."

"I doubt it," I said.

"Trust us, it is," Soda said. "He pretty much said that if we had sex he'd kill us. Darry and I are more understanding."

I cringed when he said the word "sex," and Darry said, "Oh, grow up, Audrey." I looked up. "This is just as uncomfortable for us as it is for you."

"Doubt it," I muttered, but Darry plowed on.

"We understand that, you know, being a teenage girl and all, you're probably going to end up having sex at some point, and you need to be protected," Darry said. I almost dropped dead right there. "Condoms are a must, but since you're a girl, you should have birth control as back up – of course, not all teenage girls have sex, so don't feel pressured to do it or anything, though. Oh, and if you get pregnant, we will disown you. Especially if it's with some asshole like Bryon Doug – "

"I told you, we didn't – "

"We won't disown you if you get pregnant," Soda said. He glared at Darry. "Just don't."

"Wasn't planning on it," I replied.

"That's the whole point of this discussion, nobody does," Darry said. "Now, do you want to go on birth control - ?"

"Do I want to take a pill everyday? No," I said. "I haven't even had sex and I don't even have a boyfriend or anything. Stop being so paranoid."

"Bryon Douglas wasn't your boyfriend…" Darry said. I glared at him.

"Drop it."

"Anyway," Soda said in an attempt to change the subject. "What we're trying to say is that you can be completely open with us about sex, okay? No matter what" – he glared at Darry – "we won't judge you or anything like that. It's better that you come to us even if you've made a mistake so you don't make it worse. Any questions?"

"Nope," I said.

"Here," Soda said. He took out his wallet and handed me two condoms.

"You keep those in your wallet?" I asked.

"At least he uses them," Darry muttered.

"I said, I didn't do it!" I insisted.

Soda ignored the backlash. "Anything we forgot to mention?" he asked Darry. My oldest brother shook his head.

"Can I go now?" I asked.

"Did you do any homework this afternoon?" Darry asked.

"I didn't have any," I lied.

"Go do your homework," Darry said. "And you're home right after school for the rest of the week."

"Fine," I muttered, but when I got to my room I put my bag on my bed. I didn't feel like doing homework, and I didn't feel like going to bed. I didn't know what I felt like doing, but it wasn't anything ordinary.

Someone knocked at my door.

"What?" I groaned. I was expecting Darry to come in because he'd forgotten to tell me yet another embarrassing thing, but it was Pony. With one look at his face I knew he'd heard every word of my conversation. "You eavesdropper," I accused.

He smiled. "Funniest thing I've ever heard."

"Did they talk to you?" I asked.

"Soda did, but it wasn't nearly _that_ bad," Pony answered.

"Well, you didn't have Darry making pregnancy comments every three seconds," I said.

"True," Pony said. "But really, Bryon Douglas?"

"Shut up about it, okay?" I said. Just so I could do something with my hands, I pulled a notebook out of my bag. "I screwed up."

"Why?" he asked.

I looked up and put the notebook back on the bed. He sounded sincere, but I couldn't believe that. "Why do you care?"

"You're my baby sister," he said. "It's part of my job."

"I am _not _your baby sister," I said.

"Fifteen minutes older," he pointed out.

"So I've heard," I muttered.

"Really though, why? He's a complete ass, and you know that," he said.

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" I said.

"Yes, you do," Pony said. He was right. I wanted more than anything to talk about it, but I knew that if I told Pony things would only become worse.

"Just go away," I said. I threw my bag off my bed and climbed under the covers even though I was still dressed. I buried my head under the cotton.

"Do you need me to beat him up for you?" I heard Pony ask. I smiled. "I know you're smiling," he added.

"Fine," I said. My grinning face emerged from the covers. "No, you don't have to beat him up, Pony."

"You sure?" he asked.

He had no idea how much I needed him to have my back just then. "Positive. Thanks for the offer," I said.

"You're welcome," he replied.

"Talk to Allison today?" I asked.

"Yeah," Pony said.

"And?" I asked.

"We're going out on Friday," he said. "So?"

"I dunno," I said. I knew Karen would be upset, but I didn't care that much at the moment. I was on Ponyboy's side. "Just curious."

Pony looked at me funny. "You're tired," he decided. "Go to bed."

"I'm not tired," I insisted.

"Fine," he said. "If you're not tired, you might be inclined to tell me why you lied to Darry and Soda out there."

"I didn't lie," I insisted.

"Stretched the truth," Ponyboy said. "I know Bryon Douglas, and no way in hell did you only go to second base on his terms."

He raised his eyebrows, but he looked accepting and caring, so I told him: "I stopped him on the way to third." I didn't look at Pony when I said that – maybe Pony was the easiest of my brothers to talk to about things like these, but I couldn't talk to much anybody about this, especially not a boy.

"Why did you even let him get that far?" Pony asked. "He didn't – "

"He didn't _do_ anything, Pony," I said. I wished he had because then I wouldn't feel so guilty. "I don't know why I went to his house – it was stupid – I don't know. I just wanted to fit in. You wouldn't understand."

"Who says I wouldn't understand?" he asked.

"You've got everything you want or need – you've got good grades and you're popular! Everyone likes you and you've got a girlfriend who actually gives a shit about you! I'm just your broken copy!" I complained.

"No you're not," Ponyboy said. "And I don't have everything I want. I don't have that good grades, and Darry gets pissed at me about all of that anyway – "

"At least he cares – "

"I'd rather he didn't," Pony said. "You're luckier than you think. And you've got friends – what are you talking about?" He had no idea. "And Allison doesn't care about me at all."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I asked her out this Friday this morning, but I heard her talking to some friends during lunch. She said she didn't actually like me at all but she just felt bad," he explained.

"I'm sorry," I said. "At least she cares that much."

"I'd rather she didn't," Ponyboy said. If only the boy knew what Bryon had said to me today – he'd finally realize how lucky he was to be in his own skin.

"You still going with her?" I asked.

"Dunno," Pony replied. "I'll talk to Soda about it."

"For the record, I think you should break up with her," I said. "You're better than her."

"Thanks, Audrey," he replied. "I wish." It killed me to see him kiss me on the forehead and walk out of the room. It killed me to see him feel so down – to look down on himself so much.

But I looked down on myself even more than he did on himself. That killed me, too.

Author's Note: Review, review, review! I know I got one or two reviews of people wanting to hear Darry's talk…there you have it! I hope it satisfied your cravings. Any suggestions, comments, predictions, questions…? Favorite line?


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _The Outsiders_.

My personal hell consisted of rough chairs and a stained carpet – only God knew where those stains came from. The desk in front of me had once been shiny and new, but now it was just an old, scratched, wooden desk.

"Audrey, do you have any idea why you're here?" the guidance counselor, Mrs. Warner, asked.

"No," I answered. If I'd answered yes, she'd want to know what I thought. Around guidance counselors, it was best to act like you had no mind. They liked to rip minds apart.

"How do you think you're doing in high school so far?" she asked.

"Okay," I replied. Dammit, why couldn't she ask me another yes or no question?

"It's only been three weeks, and in your best class you have a C," she explained. "Did any of this occur to you?"

"No," I answered.

"I'd say we could switch you out of your classes into lower levels, but, quite frankly, you're already in the lowest levels," she said. _Way to make me feel like crap_, I thought. "Audrey, is something going on that I should know about?"

"Nothing," I replied. "I'm fine, sorry, it's just the stress of school starting and all that, new high school and all that, I'll do better – "

"Everything all right at home?"

Gosh, all people wanted to do was split up my family. Well, they didn't really care about splitting up Darry, Soda, and Pony – it was me that they wanted out of the family. Everyone thought that it wasn't fit for a girl to live with a bunch of boys. Living with my brothers wasn't my problem – I wouldn't be much better off at all if they were girls, or if I was in some foster home or something.

"Everything's fine," I said.

Mrs. Warner handed me a sealed envelope. "Will you give this to Darrel please?"

"Yeah, okay," I said. I stuffed it in my bag and got up to leave. I had no intention of giving it to Darry.

"I'll know if you gave that to him or not," Mrs. Warner said.

I saw the look in her eye and I knew there was a damn good chance that she wasn't bluffing. I swore on my way out of the office. That event had really put a damper on my day, and it had cut into my lunchtime.

When I arrived at the cafeteria, the lunch table I usually sat at was full. I approached it with my heart in my stomach. Karen and the others were laughing about something that I probably wouldn't have been actually laughing at even if I'd been sitting there.

Karen ignored me for a couple seconds after I approached the table, so I stood there like an idiot.

"Oh, sorry, Audrey," she mumbled before turning to the other girls. After she stabbed me in the back, I limped to the cafeteria door with the intent of eating lunch in the bathroom or some other even more depressing place. That's when Andrew Reynolds caught my eye. I never thought I'd find myself in his place, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. He was alone, too.

I walked to his table and sat across from him. I don't know what came over me, but I couldn't bear spending lunch in the bathroom. Not only that, but I finally knew what it was like to be him. I didn't want him to spend his lunch alone. Nobody deserved that.

He looked up; he'd had some math notes in front of him, and they didn't look like they were from Modified Algebra, my class.

"Hi," I said. "Can I sit here?"

"Why not?" he muttered, but he looked back down at his notes.

"I'm Audrey Curtis," I said, trying to make some sort of conversation.

"I know," he said. "I'm Andrew Reynolds."

"I know," I said. "What class are those for?"

"Honors Geometry," he replied.

"You've got to be pretty smart to be a freshman in Honors Geometry," I noted.

"I guess," he said. "What are you in?"

"Modified Algebra," I replied. "And I've got a D in it."

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"It's so incredibly confusing! How do you know if you should subtract the x or add it – and then there's dividing by a negative and you switch the sign, I think – " I blabbed. It was easy to talk to Andrew. I didn't feel like I had to impress.

"Get out your notes," he said. Embarrassed, I pulled out my notes. I had doodles up the sides of every paper.

"Maybe you'd do better if you paid more attention in class," he commented with a grin. He had a sweet smile that made me smile right back. He brushed his curly hair out of his eyes and scanned my notes.

"We're working on the Pythagorean Theorem," I said.

"A squared plus B squared equals C squared?" he asked.

"How did you know that?" I asked, astonished. "Did you memorize that?"

Andrew laughed. "It's not that hard to remember," he said. "It's the formula to find the hypotenuse of a triangle."

My eyes widened. "You're smart."

He shook his head. "Not that much. Anyway, here," he said. He drew a triangle and labeled two sides on a paper. He wrote the formula on the top of the paper. His handwriting was incredibly neat for a guy's. "Try out that problem."

He handed me the pencil, but I didn't know what to write. "Need more help?" he asked. I nodded.

"This side" – he circled a side – "is A. This side" – he circled the other side – "is B. Now fill that into the equation." I did what he said. "Now just do the equation out."

"You make it sound so easy," I said. "I can't just 'do it out.'"

"Yes, you can," he said. "What's five squared?"

"Um," I said. "Twenty-five, right?"

"Yep," he said. "Fill that in. Now, what's three squared?"

"Nine," I answered.

"Nine plus twenty-five – "

"Um," I said. "Thirty-four?"

"Yep. Now, you can find the square root of the other side of the equation to get simply C. But what is the square root of thirty-four?"

"Um," I said. "Can't you just say square root of thirty-four with that little squiggly line thingie?"

"Radical?" he asked.

"Um, yeah," I said. "That's what it's called."

"There you go," he said. "You're done. C equals the square root of thirty-four."

"That's it?" I couldn't believe it. I'd been trying so hard to get these stupid problems right and now I finally understood them. It'd only taken me two minutes.

"Yep," he said.

"Wow," I replied. "Thanks so much."

"No problem," he said. "You don't have a very good teacher, do you?"

"No," I said. "Guess not. But really, that was amazing. I actually get it now. I asked other people and everything – I asked my brothers – and they're freakin' geniuses – well, two of them are, anyway – and they couldn't help me."

"Ponyboy Curtis is your brother, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

"He's in my Honors English class," he replied. "He's pretty smart; he couldn't explain the Pythagorean Theorem to you?"

"He went way too fast," I said. "He's _too_ smart."

"You have other brothers, right?" he asked. His Geometry notes were long forgotten.

"Yeah, two of them. Soda and Darry," I replied.

"Soda?" he asked with a grin.

"Yeah," I said. "My dad came up with it. Ponyboy, too. The only reason Darry got a normal name was 'cause my dad's name was Darrel, too, and our family has some tradition or something."

"Then how come you're not named Buttercup or something?" he asked. "Were you named after Audrey Hepburn?"

"No," I said, laughing. "I'm named after my mom's sister."

"That's cool," he replied.

"Not really," I answered. "When I was born, my aunt was this really kind, sweet girl. She was eight years younger than my mom, so she was still a senior in high school. Never name your kid after somebody young like that."

"Why?" he asked. "What happened?"

"She's in jail at the moment for murder," I said.

Andrew's eyebrows disappeared under this thick, curly hair. "Whoa."

"I don't like to talk about it much," I replied.

"That's okay," he said. There was a pause.

"Tell me about your family," I said. "You already know all about mine."

"My family's not interesting," he said, brushing off the question. I wouldn't let him leave with an answer like that.

"I'll be interested," I said.

"Fine," he said. "My dad works in an office and my mom cooks and cleans around the house and my sister's a senior here."

"Oh," I said. I could see what he meant by not interesting. "Not interesting's good."

"I know," he said.

"You're lying," I said. I felt like Nancy Drew or Soda for catching this. Maybe I wasn't so stupid after all.

"What do you mean?" he asked. He turned back to his math notes.

"If your story was actually true, you wouldn't have said 'I know,'" I said.

He looked up from his notes. "I was telling the truth."

"Stretching the truth?" I asked.

"What does it matter?" he asked.

"I care," I said.

"Fine," he said. He threw his notes into his backpack. "You want to know the truth? My dad works in an office. My mom cooks and cleans. My sister's a senior." He softened for a moment – he stopped gritting his teeth and he looked down. "My dad's a functional alcoholic. My mom's severely depressed. My sister's a whore."

I didn't know the right thing to say, but I had to say something. "Can't you do something about it?" Thinking back now, it was probably one of the worst things I could've said.

"My parents don't beat me. There's no law against emotional abuse. My family's great compared to others," he said. That statement killed me. People always thought like that – that others' problems were worse than their own. Either that, or they thought their problems were worse than everyone else's – conceited bastards. "I've got four years left in this town, and then I'll be out. That's why I'm in all these smart classes and shit – that's gonna be my way out."

"You can't think like that," I said. "It can't be that bad." I was only saying that because I didn't want to believe his words, but I think I only made things worse.

"It is that bad," he said. "I have no pride left for my family. I don't know how my dad still has his job – he passes out on the couch most nights. My mom brings blades to her wrists every day – and I've tried to stop her, but I can't do anything about it. My sister gets paid to take off her clothes. How can I be proud of that?"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I asked. "More proud of my family? Because they're not as bad as yours, at least they give a damn?"

"Maybe," Andrew replied. "You're throwing it all away."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't care about school; you don't try to be good at anything. You don't care and you're not grateful for what you've got," he answered.

"My parents are dead," I said. I grabbed my notes off the table and stuffed them in my backpack. "_Dead._ Do you want to be me?"

"You can't give up because of something like that," Andrew said. I grabbed my school bag and stood. I gritted my teeth. He called my parents' death "something like that?"

"I'm sorry you think my life is so much better than yours," I said. I walked out of the cafeteria and didn't look back at him. I thought he was like me; I thought I'd feel better by talking to him.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

**Author's Note**: Please review! What are your first impressions of Andrew? Now, if you're thinking this is going to be cliché with Audrey and Andrew, that's not going to happen. I have a plan…but I won't give it away! No, you'll just have to read the next ten chapters! But I want to make sure that Andrew's acting like the person I want him to be, so how would you describe him? Any other predictions? Comments? Suggestions?


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _The Outsiders_.

"You're screwed."

"Thanks, Dally; that really helps," I replied. I snatched an apple from the fridge and pulled out a large knife. The knife was sharp, but the apple was hard. I tried to shove the blade through the piece of fruit, and I ended up shooting the knife through the side of the apple, just millimeters from my fingertips.

"Whoa," Dallas said. He grabbed my wrist and pried the knife from my white knuckles. "You're gonna cut off your hand or something."

I looked at him sarcastically. "Thanks for the help."

"I bet the guy who forged my fake ID could forge you a report card," Dallas offered. He put the knife in the sink.

I shook my head. "It's that damn letter."

"How do you know that they'll find out if you don't give it to him?" he asked.

"She didn't look like she was bluffing," I said. "I bet it asks for a follow-up call or something."

"I'll forge the call, too," Dally said.

I smiled. "I wish that'd work."

"Where's Pony?" he asked. "Off with his play toy?"

"Play toy?" I asked. I smirked. "You mean Allison?"

Dallas grinned. "Never thought I'd say that about Pony."

"Pony told me _apparently_ she doesn't actually like him or something," I said. "I don't know, but I think they're done."

"Aw," Dally said. "I was having so much fun making fun of the kid. 'Course, I could always make fun of you…I heard about you and Bryon Douglas…."

"Oh, shut up about that," I said. I took a bite of the apple; it tasted horribly sour. "And don't spread that around."

"You should hear what he's saying about it," Dally said. "I don't believe it."

"Oh, God," I muttered. I threw the apple in the trash and pulled out the cake. I needed a slice now more than ever. "What did he say?"

"I don't know exactly what he said. I was at Shepard's, and Curly was telling us. He heard from Bryon or something. Curly said something like – actually, I'm not gonna go into detail there – but he basically said that you and him were going at it when you really sucked at it, bad enough for him to make you leave. Something like that. I don't know, 'cause Angela walked in just then. She seemed pretty pissed – I think she and Douglas had something. I'd watch out about that," Dallas said.

"Oh, fantastic," I groaned. "Now I've got Angela Shepard after me."

"She's not as bad as she seems," Dallas said. "Anyway, I'm guessing that story isn't true, otherwise Darry would be in the hospital from a heart attack – "

"It's not true," I said. "None of what he said."

"Then what happened?" Dallas asked.

"Why do you care?" I asked, digging into my cake. The fork was perfect – I could stab the cake without risk of cutting off my fingers, but I could get out my anger.

"I want to know who I should beat up," he explained.

"Don't make this a bigger deal than it already is, please," I said.

"I will if you don't tell me," he replied.

"Fine," I said. "Bryon invited me over after school, so I went to his house, and we were just watching TV, and then he started going at me, and then I told him I had to go and I left."

"That seems like a very abridged version of the story," Dallas noted.

"That's what happened," I lied.

"Why'd you stop him, then?" he asked.

"Because I'm not a slut!" I answered sharply.

"_That_ doesn't make you a slut," Dally replied. "And when you're in the moment like that, that's the last thing on your mind. Therefore, there's some other reason that you won't tell me. Fine, don't tell me. Now, would you like me to beat up Douglas for you?"

"No," I answered. "Honestly. Pony already asked me."

"The asshole deserves it. Even Pony thinks it's a good idea…"

"No," I insisted. "Seriously."

"Which tells me that this isn't his fault; it's yours. The reason you stopped, I mean. Which doesn't leave many options," he concluded. He squinted at me, as if considering.

"Stop with that, okay?" I said. "Yeah, it was about me – I didn't want to be labeled as a slut!"

"Whoa, don't blow up at me," Dally replied.

The door slammed and Ponyboy stomped into the kitchen and threw his backpack on the ground.

"I take it things with Allison didn't go so well?" Dallas questioned.

"She's _such a bitch_," Ponyboy exclaimed. "No, really. She doesn't like me because she likes someone else. Guess who?"

"Um," I said. Pony didn't need any more of an answer, though. He reminded me of Karen when she had a story. She had to tell me, but she was quite the drama queen about it. I never thought I'd label Ponyboy as such, but he acted different when h wasn't around Soda and Darry. He was himself – he was deeper. Around Dallas, he let out all his anger. Today, he had a lot to let out.

"I told her that if she didn't like me she didn't have to go out with me on Friday and she said that she liked me and crap like that, even though I overheard her saying otherwise yesterday – so then I leave and she goes off with some friends. So I talk to a couple of her friends later and they say that she doesn't actually like me but she likes someone else. I finally get them to tell me who – she likes Soda!" Pony's voice was high, heavy, and loud by the end of that speech. He threw his coat on his school bag and took a swig of milk from the carton. He rarely did that – he was mildly civilized, at least in comparison to the rest of them.

"Oh, fuck it," he muttered, and grabbed a beer from Two-Bit's stash in the corner of the fridge.

Dallas had been laughing ever since Pony stormed in, but when he mentioned Soda he laughed even louder. He brought it down to a chuckle when Ponyboy pulled the beverage from the fridge. "Whoa," Dally said. "You hate beer."

Pony took a swig of beer. "I know. I hate Allison, too." He sat at the table and spotted the letter. "What's that?"

"Audrey's failing," Dally said.

"What class?" he asked.

"Every one," Dally answered. He grinned.

"No," I said. "I'm only failing Home Ec and History. I've got a D in everything else, and a C in English."

Ponyboy took another long sip of the beer. "Darry's going to kill you."

"He'll kill you, too, if he finds out you were drinking," Dallas said.

"He'll kill you if he finds out you didn't stop me," Pony replied.

"Stop sassing and give me the damn drink, Pony," Dallas asked. He tried to snatch the beer, but Pony held it out of his reach. "Fine," Dally said. "It's on your head."

"Wait," Pony said. He turned to me. "You're failing Home Ec? How do you even _do_ that?"

"Might have something to do with living with a bunch of guys. No, really, they expect me to know how to sew," I said.

"Didn't Mom teach you how to sew?" Pony asked.

"She tried," I said. "I stabbed myself with the needle so many times that she gave up."

Dallas laughed. "The girl who can't sew."

"Oh, shut up, Dally," I snapped. "When's Darry getting home?" Just then there was an audible car engine followed by a slam of a door.

"Speak of the devil," Dally said.

Ponyboy jumped up and threw the beer in the trash. "Do I smell like - ?"

"Yes," Dally said. "Told you so."

"Don't tell him, please," Ponyboy pleaded. "Tell him you had one."

"Fine," Dallas said. "Only 'cause I know he'll be yelling enough about the girl who can't sew."

I glared at him and put my dishes in the sink. Maybe if I just went to my room –

"Where's Two-Bit?" Soda asked. He looked confused as he looked around the room.

"Hasn't been here all afternoon," Ponyboy said. He stole a glance at the trash. "Why?" The boy was horrible at hiding things.

Darry walked in behind Soda and said, "Pony, it's your turn to make dinner."

"It smells like beer in here," Soda answered.

"It was me," Dally said. "Sorry."

"Oh," Soda replied. Ponyboy pulled the chicken out of the fridge and prepared to put it in the oven. "What's that?" Soda asked, glancing at the envelope.

Darry picked it up. "Says it's for me."

Dally looked at me in pity before saying, "I've got to get going, see ya'll tomorrow." He was out of there in seconds. Lucky him.

Darry broke the seal and pulled out the letter. I occupied myself by fixing myself a glass of water. Darry scanned the letter, but to my surprise, he didn't say a word. He simply put it back on the table and sat down. Soda picked it up and skimmed it.

"Sorry," I said, just to say something, because I knew Darry was going to blow up any second.

"I assumed so," Darry replied. "Audrey, are you _trying_ to get us split up?"

"What – no!" I exclaimed. "Why - ?"

"Read it," Darry said. I did. Not only did it show my grades so far this year, but it showed my grades from middle school – there wasn't a grade lower than a C, and there were few of those. At the very end was a request for a meeting with Darry and I.

"That's not fair!" I complained. "That was middle school; it was way easier anyway."

"Think they care about something like that?" Darry asked.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But they won't split us up over something like that, I mean, Mrs. Sheridan wouldn't – "

"Do something because she thinks it's the right thing to do because it's helping you? Yeah, doesn't sound like her," Darry replied.

"I'm doing the best I can do," I argued.

"You're failing Home Ec," he noticed. "How do you do that?"

"She doesn't know how to sew," Ponyboy said as he put the chicken in the oven.

"And how do you have a D in gym?" Darry asked.

I wouldn't tell Darry it was because I never got changed, because I hated getting changed in front of the other girls. I was afraid they'd make fun of me.

"Even Soda passed gym!" Darry exclaimed. I didn't respond to that, but I looked at Soda. He was staring at Darry; he was frozen. "Sorry," Darry mumbled. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did," Soda said. "Doesn't matter, it's true." Soda sat down. "Audrey, you're smarter than you think."

"No, I'm not," I said.

"You just don't apply yourself," he said, plowing on. "If you actually tried, Audrey, you could have straight A's."

"No, I couldn't," I argued. "Do you think if you tried, you could've had straight A's?"

"This isn't about me – "

"Yeah, because you're smarter than me," I said. "'Even Soda passed gym!'"

"I didn't mean it like that," Darry repeated.

"'Yes, you did,'" I quoted. "Look, I'm trying as hard as I can."

"I don't think you are," Darry said. "You're grounded."

"Fine," I said. I slammed the empty glass in the sink and stomped to my room. The sound the door made when it slammed didn't make me feel nearly as better as I'd hoped.

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, and please review this chapter! What do you think? I'm especially wondering if anyone thinks that Pony was out of character in this chapter – what do you think? Think his motivations were decent, and his actions made sense?


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _The Outsiders_.

Why couldn't I get a thicker door, so I never had to hear anyone knock? I wouldn't have to hear anything or talk to anyone, because no one would know where I was because they couldn't hear me and I couldn't hear them. I could just sit in my room all day long –

"Audrey?" Soda asked from outside the door.

"What?" I groaned.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Fine," I replied. I didn't want him to, but he worried more than an overprotective mother.

He slowly opened the door and slipped inside. "You okay?" he asked. He sat on the floor because I was sitting on the bed. He was like that, completely unlike Ponyboy. Pony would put his arm around me and try to make me feel better, but Soda was never one for the fake short-term comforts. He laid out the facts.

"Not really. Am I ever?" I asked. "Soda, when did you decide to drop out?"

"Don't get any ideas," he said. He ruffled his hair. When he realized that I wasn't going to say a thing until he answered by question, he added, "I was fourteen, almost fifteen. My first year in high school. You know how Darry tried to take a couple of classes at that community college and work a full time job before Mom and Dad made him stop because he was getting three hours of sleep a night? They told him that he should just work the job and save up money to go to college later. Well, I thought Darry was so smart and I wanted to be smart like him, so I had this crazy idea that I could get all these A's and – I don't know why – but I thought it'd make it so that Darry could go to college. I don't even know what I was thinking. So I tried really hard in school and stuff, and then my first report card came."

"Sounds rough," I said.

"I got an A in auto mechanics and an A in gym. Everything else – I think I got a B in one class, but C's in most others. One D," he explained. "Mom and Dad were still proud, because this was really good for me, you know, I'm surprised they didn't hold me back in middle school. But it wasn't good enough. So I gave up."

"You gave up?" I asked. "Doesn't sound like you."

"Guess not," he replied. "I decided that school wasn't right for me. I guess when Mom and Dad died I took it as my cue to get out then."

"And Darry was okay with it, though," I said.

"I told you not to get any ideas," he said. "And he wasn't okay with it. Not at all. I remember when I first told him he didn't believe me. It was just a week after the funeral, and Darry had just picked up his second job. He told me no way was I working, that I was staying in school. I already had the part time job at the gas station, and I wanted the full time one."

"What changed his mind?" I asked.

"The bills started coming," Soda said. "Do you have any idea how much electricity costs?" I shook my head. "I didn't either, not until the bills came," he said.

"Yeah, but you don't regret working at a gas station. You like it there," I said.

"Maybe I like it all right," he said. "But when I was thirteen I wanted to be a cowboy. When I was fourteen I wanted to be an actor. When I was fifteen I wanted to be a mailman. It took me years to figure out what I wanted to be. You have no idea. You've got to stay in school until you decide, then we can talk about it."

"How am I supposed to know what I want to be?" I asked. "What's out there? I already know my future; it's the same future for every girl from this town."

"Don't talk like that," Soda said. "What do you like to do?"

"I don't know," I said. "I don't really like much of anything."

"You'll find it," Soda said.

For just a moment, I thought about telling Soda what Mrs. Sheridan had told me about that school. I thought about how she'd mentioned college. But that'd kill Soda to know that he couldn't get me everything I wanted. I couldn't make him feel like that.

"I really am trying my hardest," I said. "It's hard."

"I know," Soda said.

"What Darry said…that really hurt, didn't it?" I asked.

Soda nodded. "Nothing I can do about it, 'cause he's right. I may be happy working at a gas station, but I'm not happy about anything else. There's no pride behind the word drop-out. Darry's Superman. I'm nothing compared to him, and I've just got to accept that."

"I don't think that," I said. "I think you're both great, but in different ways."

"Thanks, Audrey," Soda said. He stood. "But what I'm trying to say is, you may think you're trying your hardest, but maybe you can try harder, I don't know. At least try and stick with it until you know what you want to do."

"Fair enough," I said. "You make it sound so easy, though."

"Dinner's ready," Soda said. "You hungry?"

I followed Soda into the kitchen. Pony stabbed his chicken so aggressively that I thought he'd stab right through the plate.

"You okay?" Soda asked. I smiled.

"I'm fine," Ponyboy muttered.

"Why are you smiling?" Soda asked me.

"Nothing," I said. Pony glared at me. Soda glanced between us.

"Fine," Ponyboy said. He dropped his fork on his plate and pushed his chair back from the table. "Things aren't going so well with Allison."

"Not going so well?" I asked. "It's a disaster."

"I'm sure it's not a disaster," Soda said. "Can't be that bad."

"Oh, it is," Pony replied. "She likes someone else."

"You must really hate this guy, I guess," Soda said.

"No," Ponyboy said quickly. I laughed.

"What?" Soda asked.

"I figured it out," Darry said. He grinned.

"What?" Soda asked. "Who?" The three of us stared at him. "Oh," he said, realization dawning. "Wait – really?"

Ponyboy nodded. He continued to stab his chicken.

"But she's…like, fourteen. And not my type. At all," Soda said.

Ponyboy shrugged. "Apparently, you're her type." As an afterthought, he sarcastically added, "Thanks."

"Not my fault I'm so good-looking," Soda said. He was joking, but Ponyboy kicked him anyway. "Hey," Soda said. "There are other girls."

Ponyboy shook his head. "I really liked her. Not anymore, though. Girls suck."

"Thanks," I said.

"You know what I mean," Ponyboy said. "Honestly, I can't believe how much of a – oh, never mind."

Pony was agitated the rest of the night. When he did his homework he practically stabbed the paper and ripped it in half. When he retired to his room, I followed him.

"There are other girls, you know," I pointed out.

Ponyboy shook his head. "Allison was special."

"You still like her?" I asked.

He nodded. "But I hate her at the same time. Is that possible?"

"Why not?" I said.

"What are you gonna do about your grades?" Ponyboy asked. He was trying to change the subject, and even though he made things better for himself, he made them worse for me.

"I don't know," I said. "Copy your homework?"

"I've never done homework for _Modified Algebra_," Ponyboy said. "Sorry," he added. "That was harsh."

Ponyboy claimed that Darry was too harsh on him about school, that he was too protective and overbearing. He had no idea how alike the two of them were. At times like these I couldn't tell them apart.

"I'm actually doing okay in Algebra," I said. I thought of Andrew. "Someone showed me how to do the Pythagorean Theorem, and now I get it."

"Yeah, I showed you," Ponyboy said. "Remember, a week ago?"

"Yeah, but I didn't understand it then," I said.

"Then who showed you how to do it?" he asked. Damn. He only wanted to know because he wanted to see who was "smarter" than him.

"Andrew Reynolds," I replied. I said the words before I realized that I could've lied. It was too late now.

"Andrew Reynold?" Ponyboy asked. "I think I know him. I didn't know you were friends with him."

"I'm not," I replied, and left the topic at that. "Well, I'm already grounded – probably for life – so it's not like I can make things worse."

"You're not _grounded for life_," Ponyboy said. "Just until you get your grades up."

"So, for life," I said. Ponyboy laughed.

"So this means no more 'not doing anything' you'll be doing," Ponyboy said. I didn't get it at first, but when I realized what he meant, I jumped off his bed and tried to smack him. He ducked and grabbed hold of my wrists.

"Let go," I breathed as I tried to break from his grasp. I tried to kick him, but I only lost my balance and fell. I banged my head on the side of his bed. "Ow!" I screamed, and he let go. I kicked his shin and rubbed my head.

"Can you keep it down?" Darry asked from the doorway. "And why on earth are you beating each other up?"

I look up. "I want a new brother."

"Yeah, well, I want a new sister," Ponyboy said. He rubbed his shin where I'd kicked it.

"Sorry," Darry said. "No new siblings."

"No fair," I muttered.

Ponyboy pulled up the leg of his jean; there was a monstrous bruise forming where I'd kicked him.

"Geez," Darry said. "You did that?" he asked me.

"You should see what I did to her," Ponyboy answered.

"Whatever happened to 'boys can't hit girls?'" I asked.

"I didn't hit you," Ponyboy said.

I tried to stand, but I stumbled. Everything was spinning.

"Whoa, sit down," Darry said. I sat on the bed, and everything stopped moving, but I still felt like someone was sticking a knife in my head. "Did you slam her head against the bedpost?" He sounded angry.

"Not really," Ponyboy said. "She tried to slap me so I held her wrists and then she lost her balance and knocked her head. It was purely self defense - her fault."

"Don't listen to him," I muttered. "It was his fault. You should ground him. And while you're at it, unground me…" I felt pretty woozy.

"Why did you try to slap him?" Darry asked.

"Because he's a horrible brother," I said.

"I just mentioned her incident with Bryon Douglas and she freaked out at me," Ponyboy said.

"He didn't just mention – " I began, but my head throbbed so hard that I couldn't say another word; I just glared at Ponyboy.

"Just make up and be quiet," Darry said. "There's ice in the kitchen." With that, he walked out of the room.

I looked quizzically at Ponyboy. "Is he okay?"

Ponyboy was still looking at the empty doorway. "He's always like that nowadays. He's been getting worse if anything. Ever since – " He stopped; neither of us talked about our parent's death unless completely necessary.

"I know," I said. "I wish he'd lighten up a bit."

Ponyboy nodded and lightly touched my hurting head with the back of his hand. "Sorry 'bout that," he said.

"Apology accepted _if_ you shut up about Bryon already. I was an idiot, okay, I get it," I said.

"Kay, I will," Ponyboy replied. He increased the pressure of his hand to my hand. "That hurt?"

"Like hell!" I yelled and jerked away from his hand.

"Sorry," he said. "I'll go get some ice." He left, and I shut my eyes tight to block out the pain. At least now I'd have an excuse for failing this week.

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews so far; they mean a lot! Please review to this chapter, too. What do you think?


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _The Outsiders_.

According to Karen, yesterday at lunch had been nothing. By now she'd heard all about Ponyboy and Allison, and she wanted to talk.

"So not only is he once again single, but he's looking for a rebound?" Karen asked. Her lunch remained untouched.

"Not exactly," I said. "I mean, yeah, he's single, but I don't know if he's looking for a rebound. Do you really _want_ to be a rebound?"

"Well, it'll start as a rebound," she answered. "And then…it'll turn into something bigger and better."

"If you say so," I said. I chewed on a bite of my sandwich.

"Do you know how many calories are in that?" Karen asked.

"Um," I said. "No idea."

She raised her eyebrows. I looked at the other girls at my table – not only were they not eating their lunches, but some didn't even have them.

"What, are we protesting cafeteria food? It's okay, I bring lunch," I said jokingly.

"No," Karen said. She didn't laugh. "We're – I'm on a diet."

"A diet?" I asked. "But Karen, you're so skinny! And I thought with diets you ate salads and stuff like that. You're not eating anything."

"I'm not skinny," Karen said. She smiled lightly, but it was wiped off her face in a moment. "Look, we're all dieting."

"Why?"

"Do you want to end up like Janice Winters?" Karen asked. I glance across the cafeteria; Janice was sitting at a slightly occupied table with a hefty tray of cafeteria food in front of her. She chowed down on the food and it spilled onto the front of her size sixteen shirt.

"No," I said. I felt nauseous at the sight. "But are you sure that's safe? Not eating _anything_?"

"Eat sometimes," Karen said. "You can't tell people you're not eating – they'll think you're crazy." I thought Karen was crazy for not eating, so she had a point there. "I eat dinner with my family. That's it."

"That's it?" I asked. "No breakfast? No lunch? No snacks or anything?"

"Nothing," Karen said. She shook her head. I thought it over. Karen was gorgeous – I'd always wanted to be a size one like her, instead of my huge size six.

I put my sandwich down. "Okay."

"You've got to set a goal on it. Five hundred calorie day. Four hundred. Nothing over a thousand, ever, though," Karen said.

I wasn't a complete idiot – although I wasn't familiar with this "diet" Karen talked of, I knew what calories were. And if what I thought was correct, you were supposed to have about two thousand calories a day.

But the other girls weren't eating, and they were all skinnier than me.

"Also," Karen added. She said the word slow, as if she wasn't sure how I'd respond. "I was thinking about cheerleading."

"Karen, we hate cheerleading," I said. If I'd still been holding my sandwich, I would have dropped it.

"Yeah, maybe you do, but I've changed my mind," she said. "Try-outs are coming up. Think about it."

…

Soda wasn't home for dinner that night, and none of us knew where he was. Darry was anxious, but not like he was when Ponyboy or I were missing. Darry thinks Pony and I don't use our heads, which is partially true, but Darry exaggerates it. Soda is street smart, so I didn't worry.

But since he was gone, Pony and Darry's minds were on other things. They didn't notice how little I ate.

When he walked in, it was eight o'clock. Darry was at the kitchen table paying bills. He looked too old when he did that, much like he looked too old when he read the newspaper. Ponyboy sat on the couch with me and did homework. Darry had made me, so I was asking questions every thirty seconds. Who expected me to know when the Revolutionary War was?

He looked fine except for the red lines under his eyes. His face was dry as sandpaper, but he'd been crying.

"You okay, Soda?" Ponyboy asked.

He nodded and walked into the kitchen. He sat at the table with Darry and they talked in a low whisper. I couldn't make out a word, and I wasn't at an angle to look at them and read their lips.

Ponyboy hesitated but turned back to his homework after a moment's thought. I turned back to my homework, as well. I was starting to understand the difference between the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution when I smelled smoke. This wasn't uncommon in my house; Ponyboy smoked all the time. I did, too, but not nearly as much as him. Darry didn't like it when I smoked, but that was just him being sexist as usual.

When I looked up, Ponyboy didn't have a cigarette in his hand or his mouth. He was looking at the kitchen, so I craned my neck to see Soda smoking. Soda didn't smoke unless he was really stressed or he was trying to look tough. I had a feeling at the moment it wasn't the latter.

"What's up with him?" I whispered to Ponyboy.

He shrugged and shook his head.

"I'm going to bed," Soda announced. I looked at the clock; it was only eight fifteen. If I wasn't sure something was wrong before, I was sure now. After half an hour, Ponyboy finished his homework and retired to his room. I walked into the kitchen.

"What's up?" I asked Darry.

"Nothing," he replied. He wasn't paying attention to me – he was too busy with his bills. His eyes didn't leave the paper. He'd been doing some math, and he didn't like the outcome. "Damn," he muttered.

"Is there anything I should know about?" I asked. He didn't glance up. I hated that – he'd stop whatever he'd been doing for Soda, but he wouldn't stop anything for me. Finally he jerked his head up.

"Oh, um, nothing," he said. "Don't worry about it."

"What happened?" I asked. It wouldn't take another "nothing" for an answer. I was sick of being manipulated.

"Fine," Darry said. He picked up a different sheet of paper with rows of numbers. "It's him and Sandy. They're over."

"What? Why? What happened?" I asked. I sat on the other side of the table – this was news.

"It's not – " Darry began. "I don't want to talk about it. I'm busy."

"What?" I asked. "You can't just not tell me – "

"Yes, I can," Darry said. "Go away, Audrey." He meant it.

"Fine," I said. I stormed out of the kitchen. I hated it when he acted like that – made me feel like crap. I knocked on Soda and Pony's bedroom door.

"Yeah?" Pony said. I opened the door, slipped inside, and closed the door behind me. I'd never seen Soda worse. He was sitting in the middle of the bed with a cigarette between his lips and a wet face. He looked dead to the world. Ponyboy sat beside him.

I couldn't not do anything. I sat beside him and threw my arms around him. I almost started crying from looking at him.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Did Darry tell you?" Soda asked emotionlessly.

"He told me you and Sandy broke up," I said. "That's it. I'm sorry."

Soda gave me a small smile. "It's not your fault."

"Maybe there's a chance," I said.

"She cheated on me, got pregnant, and went to Florida to live with her grandparents," Soda said. "There's no chance. I tried…I asked her to marry me. She wouldn't. She said she didn't want to drag me down with her. Bullshit." Soda punched the bedspread. "You were right."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You never liked Sandy," Soda clarified. "Thought she was stuck up."

"I'm not gonna say 'I told you so.'" I said. "I wish I was wrong about her."

"She's gone, but I don't think she was ever stuck up," Soda said. "She still cared, she still does. She thinks she's helping me."

"Don't you think she is?" Ponyboy asked quietly.

Soda shook his head. "You wouldn't understand." I thought about that – I imagined being with Two-Bit for so long, and having him cheat on me. I would hate him, but of course I'd take him back. Because I loved him so much.

"I get it," I said. "You love her so much; that stuff doesn't even matter anymore. She's still Sandy."

Soda nodded. He didn't look any happier that I understood.

"You still have us," I pointed out. I hated to see him like this; I only wanted him to smile. When Soda was really upset about something, and he knew he couldn't do anything about it, he started acting like Darry.

And I'd never survive in a house with two Darrys and no Soda.

The corners of his mouth turned up. "Yeah," he said.

"Soda, we're never gonna leave you," Ponyboy said.

"Oh, get over here, kiddo," Soda said. He wrapped his arm around Pony's neck and held us both close. "I love you two so much. You know that?"

"Yeah, Soda," I said. "Love you too." This was getting too mushy for me, and Soda knew it. He kissed me on the top of my stringy brown hair.

"Remember when we were little?" Soda asked.

"And I was taller than Pony?" I asked. Soda and I laughed.

"Hey!" Pony said. "We were, like, eight. Now I'm half a foot taller than you!"

"And I'm still taller than both of you," Soda said. We frowned at him. "Nothing mattered back then. It was great."

I knew he missed those days, and I missed them too. I missed Mom and Dad, and how we all were before. Before Darry turned to stone – he used to smile every day and always had time for his little sister. Before Soda dropped out – he said he was happy, and he was, but there was always longing in his eyes for something better. Before Ponyboy cared so much about school and grades – before Darry and life made him. Before I lost the meaning of life – there seemed to be less and less things to live for – to be happy for – as I got older.

I pretended that the only thing I missed was my height, but I lied about a lot of things nowadays.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _The Outsiders_.

"One hundred pounds," Karen gushed. "I finally made it."

My eyes widened. Karen already had the perfect body, but now she had a number to prove it. I'd always thought Karen would make a great supermodel – she's five foot four and she's a stick.

"Congrats," I said. "So are you done with the diet?"

"Of course not," Karen said. "There's ninety-five. Ninety. Eighty-five. Eighty's my big goal, though."

"Are you sure that's healthy?" I asked. "Eighty pounds?"

"Yeah, it's better than healthy," Karen answered. "It's beautiful. What's your goal?"

I'd been wishing she would ask that – I didn't want to give out my imperfect number. "I don't know," I admitted.

"Well, how much do you weigh now?" she asked.

"I weighed myself last week," I said and regretfully added: "One hundred twenty-seven pounds." At the look of Karen's face, I added, "But I was bloated and PMS-ing, and – "

"It's okay," Karen said. "You just have bigger goals. One twenty by next Friday?"

"Geez, that's fast," I said. "That's, what, seven, eight days?"

"You can do it," Karen said. "A pound a day with room for some breathing room."

It didn't sound like breathing room to me. "All right," I complied. "I'll do it." I hadn't brought a lunch to school that day. Thinking of the nice hot eggs I missed for breakfast, I ignored my growling stomach.

…

"Pony, can I talk to you?" I asked. He was sitting on his bed reading a book, which was how I was most likely to find the kid. Darry and Soda were still at work, and I wanted to take advantage of their time gone. It had always been easier for me to talk to Ponyboy about sensitive topics – Darry was far too protective about it, and I knew Soda would worry about whatever I'd said. He always worried. Ponyboy would help me out, and he would tell me the truth, even if it hurt.

"Mmm-hmm?" he asked. He didn't look away from the book. I sat on his bed and snatched his book from him. "Hey!" he protested. He tried to grab it back, but I threw it on the ground on top of one of his stacks of books.

I was straight to the point: "How important is a girl's body to a guy?"

"May I ask _why_ you're asking?" Pony asked.

"No," I replied. That was the only downfall of Ponyboy – he had to know the context behind everything.

"Fine," Ponyboy said. He considered. "I don't know how important it is. I think it's more of the fact that the girl has a body that's the important part. After that, I'm not too picky, as long as she's not hideous."

Did I qualify as hideous? "Oh," I said. "But if you see two girls walking down the street, would you immediately be drawn to the one that weighed, say, one thirty, or the one that weighed one hundred?"

"I guess it depends on their height, or how else they looked," Ponyboy said.

"They look the same otherwise, and they're the same height," I clarified. That was a lie – Karen's straight smile and gorgeous hair were everything compared to my stringy hair and crooked front teeth. And she was four inches taller than me….

"I guess the skinnier one," Ponyboy said. "Audrey, what's up?"

"Nothing," I said. I got up and walked to the door.

"Audrey, wait – " I closed the door behind me and walked down the hall. I don't know why I asked Pony; I knew he'd say that. That's what everyone thought, too – it wasn't a personal thing.

I sat on my bed and Ponyboy followed me. "Audrey, why do you ask?"

"No reason," I said. "Go away."

He sat next to me. "You already lost my page." I smiled. "Who are you talking about?"

"Nobody," I said.

"No," Ponyboy said. He stood and started pacing around my room. "Look, I said the wrong answer. I don't think what I said. I would look at both girls. Honestly, I'd be drawn to them both. And a lot of guys think like that, you know, and anyway, one hundred and thirty pounds isn't a lot at all. I think that too skinny girls are gross." He stopped pacing and waiting for my reaction.

"Yeah, okay," I said. I didn't believe him, and he knew it. I looked at the floor. He didn't tell me to look at him, but he kneeled by the bed.

"Audrey, I know what you're asking. And no, you're not fat," he said.

"That's not what I was ask – "

"Yes, it was," Pony interrupted.

"Just go away," I said. I laid down on my bed and stuffed my face into my pillow. I heard his footsteps grow fainter. I wish he'd stayed. He would've seen my hot and sticky face when I peeled it away from my pillow.

But he didn't have time for me. Nobody did.

…

"Audrey, can you go to the store? We're out of milk," Darry asked after closing the fridge. I'd been lying of the couch watching TV.

"My favorite show's on," I complained. "It doesn't end for another half hour. And by then it'll be getting dark. Make Ponyboy do it."

"No," Darry said. "He's doing homework in his room."

"Yeah, sure, homework," I said. "He probably knew the milk was missing and wanted an excuse not to go in the freezing cold to get it."

"It's fifty degrees out," Darry said. "Not that cold."

"And steadily getting colder. It's freezing," I said. "Why don't you ask Soda?"

"Because he's busy moping," Darry explained. "What's the big deal with going to the store? It's not like you're doing anything more important."

"TV!" I exclaimed. "And it's cold, and the old guy who works at the store in the evenings is weird and smells funny. And I'm grounded – I can't."

"Then you should be jumping with joy on this chance to get out of the house," Darry said. He walked to the TV and shut it off. "Go get the milk."

"No," I moaned. I curled up on the couch underneath the warm blanket. "It's cold!"

"Audrey, stop giving me a hard time, get up, and go to the damn store!" Darry yelled. His face was turning red.

I covered my face with the blanket. Next thing I knew, Darry'd yanked it off so quickly that I fell off the couch.

"Ow," I muttered.

Darry ignored that. "Get up and go to the store," he said. I glared at him. My glare turned into a smile when a beautiful man walked through the doorway.

"Do I hear the dulcet tones of Audrey complaining? Wow, that _never_ happens. She's always so agreeable."

"Shut up, Two-Bit," I said. Anyone could catch the sarcasm in his voice. "Why don't you get the milk, Darry?"

"Okay, fine," Darry said. "I'll go get the milk. You stay home, you know, some bills just came in the mail, and all. I know you want to deal with that. And you'll love it so much that you'll want to stay up until eleven working on that until you get up at five thirty to work all day long."

"I get it," I said. "Fine, I'll go. But it's freezing."

"Audrey, I'll make you a deal," Two-Bit said.

"You'll get me the milk?" I asked.

"Nope," Two-Bit said. "But I'll give you a ride there if you get me a beer from the kitchen."

How could I not take up an offer like that? I skipped into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, but just before leaving the room I checked my reflection on the bottle. My hair was a mess from lying on the couch. I tried to pat it down, but I deemed it a hopeless cause after a moment's notice.

I climbed into the passenger seat of Two-Bit's car and handed him his beer.

"Wanna sip?" he asked. I shook my head. "Course not," he said after taking a sip himself.

"Fine," I said. "I'll have a sip."

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow but handed me the bottle. I cautiously took a small sip.

"This stuff tastes good," I said as Two-Bit started up the car.

"Best stuff on Earth," Two-Bit argreed. "You've never had beer before?"

I hated to do it, but I shook my head. I always felt so young and inexperienced around Two-Bit.

"Don't tell Darry I gave you that, then," Two-Bit said. "And let's not make a habit of that."

"It's fine," I said. "I'm already grounded for life."

Two-Bit smiled. "You are? What'd you do this time?"

"My grades," I answered as I ignored the butterflies in my stomach. "They sent a letter. I'm already flunking practically all my classes, or almost. So I guess I'm only grounded until I bring them up. So, for life."

Two-Bit laughed. "Just copy Pony's homework."

"That's what I was thinking. I told Pony and he said that he never took Modified Algebra," I said. I took another sip of the beer.

"Well, you're screwed then," Two-Bit said.

"Bet I get a better report card than you," I said.

"Probably," Two-Bit agreed. "Not by much, though. And Darry isn't my brother."

"Your mom doesn't care if about your grades like that?" I asked.

"She's just glad I'm still in school," Two-Bit replied. "I stay there 'cause it makes her happy. And it isn't so bad, anyway. What else am I gonna do?"

"I guess that makes sense," I said. "You're lucky you don't have Darry breathing down your neck." I loved talking to Two-Bit; it was so easy.

"Don't complain so much about him," Two-Bit said. "You're too ungrateful."

"_I'm ungrateful_?" I asked. "How so?"

"You complained a shitload about going to get milk. Not that tough a thing to do, not so bad. You could have things so much worse, you know?"

He reminded me of Andrew. I didn't like that.

"So maybe I complain some. Doesn't make me ungrateful, just frustrated. Or maybe annoyed. But not ungrateful."

"Whatever you say," Two-Bit replied. He glanced at me, and his eyes widened when he saw the bottle in my hand. "Shit, did you already drink most of that?"

I looked at the bottle and realized he was right. "Not most," I said. "Maybe half."

"Three quarters," Two-Bit said. He snatched it back. "Shit, and you smell like it, too. Darry's gonna kill me."

"Naw, I think he'll kill me first," I said. "Maybe he'll just maim you."

Two-Bit laughed. "Fantastic. Here, check if there are any breath mints or anything in the glove compartment."

I opened the glove compartment. "Um, Two-Bit?"

"Yeah?" he said. He glanced down at the glove compartment. "Oh, shit," he said. "Don't look in there."

"Yeah, I figured that out when I saw the thong," I answered. Honestly, I was jealous. I wished my lingerie was in his car.

"Just pretend you didn't see anything in that compartment, okay? Especially not Kathy," he said.

"Those weren't Kathy's – "

"Nope," Two-Bit said. "And I'd love it if she didn't know about those."

"All right," I said. "I won't tell her. Maybe you should take care of that before the next time you take her in your car."

"Yeah, maybe," Two-Bit said. He pulled into a parking spot. I opened my door, but Two-Bit hadn't shut off the car or made any attempt to leave.

"You coming?" I asked.

"No," he said. "Said I'd give you a ride _here_, didn't I? You're walking back."

I groaned. "Fine," I said. I slammed the door, but as I heard Two-Bit's car driving out of the parking lot I walked with my back straight and my butt out. That's how Kathy always walked.

Author's Note: What do you think? Review, please!


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _The Outsiders_.

"I weighed myself this morning," I declared. "One twenty-five."

Karen smiled. "You're getting there," she said. I glanced away; Andrew sat at his usual empty table. He had more notes in front of him today, and I wondered if they were for Geometry like the other day.

"Karen, are you going to try out for cheerleading tomorrow?" Kelsey asked. She was the typical all-American cheerleader, with golden blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and a mile-wide smile.

"I think so," Karen answered, and I gaped at her.

When Kelsey looked away, I whispered, "But _we_ hate cheerleading! Didn't we agree that it was for slutty girls who need an excuse to act the way they do?"

"Maybe _I've_ changed my mind," Karen said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I think I'm going to. Kelsey's the one who told me about the diet a few weeks ago, too. And look at how great that's been for me."

I looked at her shallow face and raised my eyebrows. "So you're going to try out?"

She nodded. "You can try out, too."

"You think I should?" I asked.

"Why not?" she said. "You did gymnastics and dance when you were younger, right?" I couldn't think of any reason to say no, so I didn't say anything.

…

"Soda, can you pick me up from school tomorrow after work?" I asked at dinner.

"Why are you staying after school?" Soda asked.

I didn't want to tell them, but I knew they'd find out. I looked at the pork chops on my plate and said, "I'm trying out for the cheerleading team."

I looked up to find mixed expressions. Pony hadn't seemed to notice anything new, Soda's eyes were wide and his eyebrows were high, and Darry smiled.

"Our little tomboy is trying out for cheerleading? I thought you hated cheerleaders," Darry said.

"I'm not a tomboy," I said. "And I don't hate cheerleaders."

"Why are you doing cheerleading?" Soda asked. "Doesn't really seem like you, to be honest."

"Yeah, well, I think I'd like it. I want to do something, and there's nothing else to do. It's not like I could do track or something," I said.

"True," Darry said. "But cheerleading? Really?"

I nodded. "What's the problem?"

"You're grounded for a reason," Darry replied. "I'm guessing your grades haven't improved the slightest."

"They have…" I protested. "Kind of. Can't I please at least try out? I probably won't make the team. And I bet even if I do I'll be more motivated to do my work if I have less time, and I won't slack off and all – "

"You really want to try out for this thing?" Darry asked.

I nodded.

"Fine," Darry said. "We'll talk if you make it and your grades slip even more."

The rest of dinner was spent mostly in silence, and I guess we all had a lot to think about. I suppose they were wondering about my sudden change in interest, but I didn't know why either.

…

"You're Soda Curtis's sister, right?" a girl asked me. She was yet another rosy-cheeked cheerleader, and I was already feeling sick of these girls. It had only been an hour, and I was wondering why I'd agreed with Karen to try out. And then I remembered how popular cheerleaders were, how skinny they were, and how many dates they got….

"Yeah," I said. "Audrey."

"Oh," she said. "I'm Debbie Miller. So you see him a lot?"

"Yeah," I said. "We sort of live together."

We both laughed at the odd humor, but Debbie was quick to add, "I'd love to get to know him better some time. I'm the Junior Varsity captain, by the way. You were really good our there."

"Oh," I said. "You think?"

She nodded and showed me the contrast between her yellow hair and pearly teeth. After that the captains and coaches went into a side room; the rest of us girls stayed in the gym. I joined Karen.

"Were you talking to Debbie Miller?" she asked. "Did she say you were good?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Do you think you'll get in?"

"I don't know," I said. "I hope so." I wasn't sure if I really hoped so, but the sentence made Karen giggle and flip her hair.

"I hope I get in, too," she said.

The coaches and captains emerged from the room, and we hushed instantly. The head coach stepped forward and said, "We're glad to get such a good turn-out this year, and we're sorry to any girls who didn't make it in. Remember, there's always next year." Some girls snickered. "I'll let our head varsity cheerleader, Lauren Peterson, read the list of this year's varsity cheerleaders."

Another older blonde girl stepped forward and read a list of names from a long list. After each name a girl from the audience squealed and Lauren's smile got even wider. Finally Lauren concluded, "That's it."

Debbie stepped forward. "Here's the junior varsity cheerleaders. Kelsey Smith, Pam Hill, Judy Young, Beverly Baker, Audrey Curtis, Diane Allen, Cynthia Walker, Kathleen Roberts, Brenda Turner, and Karen Morris." By the end of this list, some girls looked down, but I'd never seen Karen's smile so large.

"I made it!" she said.

"I know," I said. I smiled, too. Maybe it was only cheerleading, but I'd finally made it at something. After the coaches informed us that the first practice would be held next Monday, they left the gym. The girls who hadn't been chosen left, and their heads were down. Us new girls were about to leave, too, but the captains told us all to stay and gather around.

"I think some of our new girls know a bit about the diet," Lauren began. She shared a knowing look with the other older cheerleaders at the word "diet." "As part of our, say, _bonding_ as cheerleaders, we like to have a bit of a competition." I didn't notice that she'd left, but another older girl returned from the back room with a large sheet of paper. She held it up for the other girls with a grin.

I couldn't read it all, but I read: "Carol…110. Denise…105. Mary…99."

"This is the old sheet from last year," Lauren said. "But we'll start a new one for this year. We keep track of our weights. A bit of a competition, to see who's the skinniest. We keep a scale in the other room, and weigh ourselves at the end of some practices."

"But the coaches don't know about this," the other girl said. "So don't tell them."

"There's nothing bad about it," Lauren said. I guess she noticed the worried looks on some of our faces. "But just don't tell them, okay?"

We nodded. I couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a single weight on that list above one hundred and fifteen pounds.

The meeting ended, and I began to leave with a smiling Karen. She would be on the lower side of that weight list. Me, not as lucky.

"Are you worried, Audrey?" Karen asked. "Don't be." Karen was always like that – if she had a reason to worry for herself, she'd want everyone to worry, but she'd never worry for someone else.

I grimly nodded. When we walked outside, Debbie caught up with me. I realized why when I saw Soda sitting on the curb. He was smoking a cigarette and his head was down; that had me worried.

"Hi, Soda," Debbie said.

"Oh, hey," Soda said. He looked confused, but snapped out of it after a moment. "Ready to go, Audrey?"

"Yeah," I said, and Debbie gave me a fleeting but dirty look.

"See you," Debbie said. She flashed her brilliant teeth at Soda and left. She noticeably walked just like Kathy.

"You didn't have to get out of the car," I said.

"I didn't take a car," Soda replied.

"I thought you came with Steve," I said.

"I didn't," Soda said and took a drag of his cigarette. "He dropped me off; I figured I'd walk you home."

"It's such a long walk and it's way too cold out," I noted.

Soda didn't appear to hear me. With a bitter sound, he said, "He's on a date with Evie."

"Oh," I said. "You still cut up over – "

"Don't say it," Soda interrupted, and I took that as a yes.

"Soda, I'm sorry," I said.

He ignored me. "I take it you made the team?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Congrats," he said. He had no emotion in his voice. He reminded me of the hippies I saw outside the mall once smoking pot. I remembered that day – it'd been a hot summer day, and they'd been standing by the back door, and I'd only seen them out the window of the back of a store. I was eleven, and I'd never seen something quite like that before. And then Darry came and gave me a speech about low-lives who threw their lives away.

Darry didn't understand people like that. He was stuck to the system. Soda wasn't, and he looked so much like those people I'd seen that day just then. It scared the hell out of me.

I grabbed his cigarette and threw it on the ground. "I get it," I said. "I get it, you're depressed about this whole ordeal, but please, don't do that."

Soda frowned. "I didn't know you were so against cigarettes. If you're so upset about it, go yell at Pony. He's the big smoker."

"That's not what I mean," I said. "You're not _you_, Soda."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "I'm me." But his eyes didn't sparkle, and he didn't smile.

"No, you're not," I said. "I don't care if you lost Sandy, but I'm not losing my brother."

Soda looked alarmed. He grabbed my arm. "I'm not leaving, Audrey. What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You don't just stop living because you lose someone!" I exclaimed.

"I don't get it," Soda said. "Nothing's changed. I'm still working, I'm still here – "

"You could smile," I said. "I haven't seen one happy smile out of you since she left."

He fixed the corners of his mouth into a grin. "See," he said. "I'm happy."

"No, you're not," I said. "Not really."

"It isn't easy," Soda admitted. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"Why?" I asked. "I would only help. I'm only trying to help."

"You've got enough to deal with," Soda said. "Look, don't worry about me, okay?"

"Not if you're unhappy," I said.

"If I get more like the old me, will you stop worrying?" Soda asked.

I considered, but nodded. I wished Soda had asked why I'd been acting different recently, too, but he didn't utter a word.

Author's Note: Thanks so much to all the reviewers so far! What do you think of this chapter?


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